


Spitfire Dawn

by DannyCreasy



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, England (Country), F/F, Flying, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Military, United Kingdom, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 33,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25046182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyCreasy/pseuds/DannyCreasy
Summary: In the dark days of 1941, Britain’s Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA) has a daunting mission; the pilots must ferry thousands of new or repaired aircraft to fields all over the British Isles. The newly formed and first “all women” Ferry Pool at Hamble, near Southampton, has much to prove. They deliver scores of different aircraft types several times a day, often in less than ideal weather conditions.Therese Belivet has just been assigned to Hamble. She knows no one. Fresh from training, she finds herself in the deep end. The last thing she needs on her plate is to fall in love, but her striking new commander, Flight Captain Carol Aird, is a delicacy the young pilot finds hard to resist.
Relationships: Carol Aird & Harge Aird, Carol Aird & Rindy Aird, Carol Aird & Therese Belivet, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet/Abby Gerhard, Therese Belivet & Dannie McElroy & Phil McElroy, Therese Belivet/Genevieve Cranell, Therese Belivet/Richard Semco
Comments: 226
Kudos: 89





	1. Ferry Pool No. 15, Hamble

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/iT9pDtT)  
> Real pilots of the ATA pose at Hamble on a Spitfire Mk IX.
> 
> Dear Readers,
> 
> This entire work is written in "British English". Hopefully, the Yanks will find this choice more of an amusement than a "labour".
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> Danny

Third Officer Therese Belivet’s air taxi, an Avro Anson, made a smooth landing at Hamble, Hampshire. She was the only one of the sprogs to leave the plane. With bag and purse in hand, she made her way to the single-story administrative building just off the airfield. The roar of her taxi’s twin engines caused her to turn and look as it raced down the runway and lifted off to deliver the other young pilots to their respective fields.

October 3, 1941, was a partly cloudy Friday. Therese entered the obviously new building, with its smells of fresh paint and plaster, at a quarter to noon. A lien brunette with the epaulettes of an administrative officer almost bumped into Therese. Therese dropped her luggage and saluted, “Good morning, Ma’am!”

Administrative Officer Abby Gerhard returns the salute, smirking, “Good morning Third Officer… I’d say… ‘Belivet’?

Shocked that Abby knew her name, Therese remained at attention.

Abby shifted to an empathetic visage, “At ease, Belivet… am I pronouncing that correctly?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I’m the AO here at Hamble … Abby Gerhard.” She extended her hand to welcome the nervous new arrival.

“I’m headed to lunch, Belivet; put your bag there, by Campbell’s desk and join me.”

Thank you, Ma’am.

They stepped to the loo to wash their hands, then made their way back to the officers' dining room, which was next to the enlisted personnel’s mess room.

They got their plates of roast beef, potatoes, and peas and found a seat. An attendant brought them cups of tea. Stale rolls were on the table. Abby grumbled, “Uhh, no butter... 'war... is hell'.”

Abby introduced Therese to a couple of other pilots at the table, and the women were courteous but cool.

Therese asked, “Is the commanding officer here today? Do I need to report to her after lunch?”

“Oh, yes … you’ll not slip by that little formality today,” Abby replied with a chuckle.

Therese summoned a sheepish grin.

Abby picked up on her apprehension and added, “Don’t be nervous, love. Captain Aird is a fine officer … she’s firm but has a kind heart.”

Despite the butterflies, Therese ate her food. It was too dear to waste even a morsel, and she knew there would be nothing until supper with several busy hours in between.”

A tall, slender redheaded Second Officer came over and asked, “Abby, is this our new pilot?”

“Yes… Therese Belivet, meet Grace Goodly ... our American.”

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Uhm, Grace will do fine, Therese.”

“Oh,” Therese blushed.

Grace chimed to Therese, “Girl, you’re in luck.” She was addressing Therese but slipped a sly wink to Abby.

Abby laughed, knowing Grace had scored lodging for Therese; it was a task assigned to Grace earlier by Abby right after she received notification of Therese's posting to Hamble.

“Therese, the room next to me at the Royal Southern Yacht Club just opened up.”

Therese had to keep her jaw from dropping, “What?”

“Yes, dearie, you heard correctly … now polish off that tea and let’s go. The driver is free to take us over there, and I’ll show you your new digs.”

Therese glanced at Abby.

Abby gestured with her hands, “Runaway, little Belivet … hey, Grace … no dilly-dallying, be back here sharp … Carol wants to meet her.”

“Of course, Abby … and I’m sure you have a chit for me.”

“I do … Eastleigh Vickers has three Spits ready.”

“Three? Who else is going with me?”

“We’ve not worked that out. If nothing else, you’ll taxi up alone and fly just one of them.”

“Okay … ready, Therese?”

Campbell had already put Therese’s bag in the airfield’s car, so they were off in a jiffy. It only took minutes for the driver, a large girl named Molly Slack with gorgeous brown curls and freckles, to negotiate the winding village roads to Therese’s new abode. The room was small but clean and warm. It had a window with a spectacular view of the River Hamble.

Unpacked quickly with Grace’s expert help, they were heading back in minutes. Grace smiled and commented, “I love flying Spitfires!”

Therese, caught up in it all, noticed that her butterflies were gone.


	2. A Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/XEc2GC3)  
>   
>  Supermarine Spitfire Mk V

Stepping from the car, Therese recognized Carol without ever having met or seen her before. The striking blonde with Flight Captain epaulettes was chatting with a man by the door of the Meteorological Office.

Grace directed, “Come on, Therese, that’s Captain Aird… I’ll introduce you.”

They paused a few feet away from Carol to politely let her finish the conversation with the met office rep. Carol said, “Very well, thank you, Hemmings.” She turned without hesitation and said, “Hello, Grace… did you get Third Officer Belivet housed?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” answered Grace.

Therese saluted Carol.

Carol returned the salute and then responded to Grace, “Good… the Yacht Club?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” replied Grace.

Carol remarked. “Lovely, view over there, Belivet… not that you’ll have much time to enjoy it.”

“I’m sure, Ma’am.”

Well, thank you, Grace, for handling that task… you go check in with Abby while I visit with our new pilot.

“Yes, Captain Aird… Therese, it was nice to meet you and welcome to Hamble.”

In Carol’s tiny office, Therese was asked to sit.

“I’ve read your file, Therese… that’s the correct pronunciation isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And, ‘Belivet’… that’s of Czech derivation, correct?”

“Yes, my father was in the Czechoslovak Air Force years ago. After the Great War, he immigrated to Britain and went to work for British Airways. He taught me to fly when I was fourteen.”

“And your mother?”

“She was born in Eastleigh. She was working in London after the war when Dad met her… they hit it off and married in 1920.”

“Eastleigh… just up the road?”

“That’s correct… after my father was killed in a boating accident in 35, Mum moved back to Eastleigh. She works for a pair of solicitors in the village.”

“Secretary?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“No other siblings?”

“None, Ma’am. Mum lives with my Grandmother. Gram has a nice little house just blocks from Mum’s work.”

“That’s lovely, Therese.” Carol glanced through Therese’s file. “You did well at White Waltham… how did you like it?”

“It was fine for a training facility, Ma’am.”

“But…”

“I’m ready to go to work, Captain.”

“That’s good… we need you, Therese.”

Once again, the commander studied the file.

“Ah, Class 2… how much time in Spits and Hurricanes?”

“Two hours in Spitfires and three in Hurricanes?”

“Any problems?”

“None, Ma’am.”

“Therese, we are not very formal here… not much saluting and the like. But don’t confuse that for lack of discipline, respect for rank, or low expectations. We are in the fishbowl, Belivet... all eyes are upon us. We are the first all-female ATA ferry pool, and we will be successful.”

“Understood, Captain Aird.”

Abby came up and knocked.

“Yes, Abby, come in.”

“Ma’am, Biggin Hill just called about those three Spits at Eastleigh, Vickers. They need all three today, if at all possible… all I have is Grace.”

“Well, you have your other two pilots right here, Abby.”

Therese’s butterflies returned. Not only would she have her first ferry pool flight, but she would also be flying in formation with her commander.

Abby laughed, “Very good. The air taxi is on approach. It should be landing in two.”

Carol commanded, “Well, Belivet, do you have a flight suit?”

“No, Ma’am. That was a loaner at White Waltham; they told us we would be issued gear at our pools.”

“Well, no time for supply now, I have a spare you can use… a couple of stitches, but we’re not on parade, hmm my dear?”

“Thank you, Ma’am!”

They were airborne fifteen minutes later in an Anson with chits in hand for three Spitfire Mk VB fighter planes. Therese had only flown models Mk I and II in training, so she was studying the V’s page in her “blue book”, the ATA’s Ferry Poll Notes.

Carol and Grace eyed the girl and then grinned at one another; they had been flying the Mk V Spitfires since the spring. Carol let Therese finish her review of the page then spoke encouragingly, “Therese, you’re in for a treat. The Mk V handles like a dream, the landing gear are improved, and it has more power… you’ll love it.”

As the Anson descended to land, Carol observed Therese looking out her window at the ground. She asked, “Do you see your ‘Gram’s’ house, Therese?”

Therese nodded.

Grace commented, “I’ll never get over it, you Brits are literally fighting this war in your backyards.”

“Well, we’ve taken it to them over the summer. The fighter sweeps and bombing runs in France have been effective.”

Grace countered, “Yet costly.”

“True enough, now our pilots that hit the silk don’t come home... and that hellish new Focke-Wulf 190… the boys say it is flying rings around the Mk V.”

A sombre moment followed. It was jostled away by the taxi to the dispersal area.

Therese performed the preflight of her assigned Mk V. A crew chief escorted her, ready for questions. Therese paused a moment to examine the long 20mm cannon barrels. The earlier Spits she had flown did not carry such fearsome armament, only machine guns.

Warm-ups and takeoffs went well for the three women. The rate of climb of the Mk V was impressive; the “Vic” was at 5,000 feet in no time doing over 300 miles an hour. They made their way northeast. A half-hour later, they were landing at the massive fighter base.

Carol patted Therese on the back as they walked from their aircraft, saying, “Well done, Therese, you held formation impressively.

In American pilot slang, Grace added, “And that was a grease job of a landing, honey.”

Grace volunteered to check on a ride home. In the smoking area, Carol offered Therese a cigarette from her shiny silver cigarette case. Therese’s eyes lit up, “Are those American?”

Carol chuckled, “Yes, Grace’s mother sent her five cartons of Camels recently. She gave Abby and me a carton to split. We are cherishing them… I still miss my Craven ‘A’ though.”

“Oh, my… that was my Mum and Dad’s favourite as well.”

“So, I’m an oldie like your folks, Therese?”

Therese glanced at Carol’s piercing blue eyes and thought, _You are not an oldie, my lovely creature._ But she said, “No… I meant nothing of the kind.”

Carol smirked and broke the devilish gaze.

Grace returned a moment later to report, “We actually have a plane here; one of our Ansons was overheating this morning, and Linda had to leave it for repair. She caught a ride home with another pool.”

“So, our Anson is ready to go?”

“Yes, Ma’am… I’ll fly us home.”

“No, we’ll let Therese have the honour. Twin engines are no problem are they, Therese?”

“No, Ma’am.” Therese loved the way Carol was testing her at every turn in such a non-threatening way.”

Upon landing and parking back at Hamble, Therese was busy post-flighting the Anson. After a “job well done” to Therese, Grace and Carol exited the plane for the ATA building.

When Therese was making her way out of the aircraft, she saw Carol’s flight gloves on one of the seats. Without thinking anything of it, Therese snatched them up to carry along.

She could have left the gloves with one of the clerks outside Carol’s office, but Therese wanted to hand them to Carol. She wanted to look into those eyes again. Watch for a smile. See if the blonde took a hand to an errant curl and put it in its place.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

“You left these in the plane, Ma’am.”

“Oh, how careless of me. Those are my favourites. They would have been off to who knows where tomorrow. Thank you.”

“Oh, and your flight suit?”

“Hmm, yes, leave it in the chair. Let’s take you over to supply and see what they have. It’s late in the day, but this might be the best time to catch them.”

Therese was in luck. She landed a never-before-issued flight suit and was accompanied by the new centre of her universe, one Carol Aird. They chatted about a dozen nothings to and fro. Upon entering the ATA building, Abby proudly announced there were no more ferries today.

Carol asked Abby, “Are the lot of you meeting for drinks at Hamble’s Crook?”

Elated at the prospect of the ever-busy Carol joining the “girls” for a drink, Abby chimed, “We are… and you’re joining us?”

Carol smirked, “Well, don’t be so shocked, Ops Off Gerhard.”

Therese observed Abby’s elation and was a bit jealous. Why should she be jealous? Did Abby have some deep connection to Carol? Had they been more than friends?

Such catty thoughts were knocked aside when Abby shifted her smile to Therese. “And, Therese, you will come along for a drink, won’t you? We must raise a glass to our new girl.”

Therese numbly nodded.

At the pub, they had the first round then Canadian, Mildred Hanks, took to the piano and began to fumble. She surrendered in disgust. Abby insisted, “Carol, you haven’t played for us in ages.”

“Oh, no… I can’t.”

Everyone jeered and hurrahed until Carol took the piano bench. Carol thought a moment then gave Therese the gaze shared earlier at Biggin Hill. Carol began to bang out, _Hands, Knees, and Boomps-a-daisy._ The pilots and engineers laughed at the song and then began to sing along and “Boomp their daisies”. Carol laughed out loud at her pool’s antics.

She followed with the serious and lovely, _Lili Marlene._ Mildred began to cry. Therese revelled in this sisterhood.

Carol got them laughing again with _Oh oh Antonio!_ She floored them going solo on:

“Her English was bad

It cannot be denied

And so to herself

In Italian she cried

Oh, oh, Antonio…”

After a second lager, Therese slid her bottom up next to Carols on the little bench and asked, “Do you know _Hey Little Hen?_ ”

Carol grinned and nodded. They played together.

“Hey Little Hen

When When When

Will you lay me an egg for my tea.”

The entire pub had joined in by now, and the owner even contributed his fine baritone voice to the effort.

Later, they filtered out to their various lodgings, some a bit wobbly, yet all a bit lighter and happier.

Grace headed off arm in arm singing with two other gals that stayed at the Royal Yacht Club. Therese lingered. Abby cheerfully stumbled away with the gals staying at Mere House. Carol appeared out of nowhere and scooped up Therese’s arm and began to walk her to catch up with Grace. “Dear little hen, you wouldn’t want to get lost in this fog, would you? Let’s reunite you with your flock.”

As they walked, Therese’s arm brushed rhythmically against Carol’s breast. Back and forth, back and forth it went. Her heart leapt into her throat. She thought she might never care if they got lost in the fog. To be lost with Carol would be heaven.

It seemed as suddenly as Carol had gathered her up; she was enjoining Therese with Grace’s gaggle. She released her. Therese glanced back to see Carol’s ethereal silhouette disappear into the fog.


	3. By Air and Sea

Therese walked with Grace to breakfast. The sun was not up yet. Grace had a slight case of the morning after. Therese was glad she had held back the night before. Frankly, the choice moments with Carol were intoxicating enough; it took her a while to fall asleep despite the comfortable bed in her lovely little room. She knew there was something there with Carol. It was all so unfair. If Grace had met a fellow last night and hit it off, she would be nattering on about her feelings and how handsome or strong or gentlemanly he was. No, Therese could only talk out this thing between her and Carol with herself.

As they passed through the village, Therese glanced at Hamble’s Crook and thought about the exhilarating surge delivered by Carol’s confident grasping of Therese’s arm. Therese had never felt this way with an older woman. Only girls of her own age: school at 17, a night in Marseille at 18, and two months ago, on leave in London. Finding that magical place in London was a surreal experience, yet it wasn’t romantic love. Therese yearned for a woman to share body, heart, and soul with, someone to love.

Then there were the boys. She was as close as siblings to her three chums from the flying club in Eastleigh.

Therese was sure that Richard Semco considered her his girlfriend. What could she say? Therese surrendered her virginity to him on her Gram’s settee at 16. Her mother and grandmother stepped out after Sunday dinner to check on a sick friend leaving Therese and Richard alone listening to records on the Collaro. She was super fond of Richard and even sure he loved her. They had kissed often in the past and began to again as soon as her elders departed. Richard’s hands began to explore, and Therese hated to disappoint him. Thanks to a mad dash to her mother’s dresser and the London Rubber Company, she minimized the risk of pregnancy. She let on to him that it was quite the be-all and end-all, but Richard was a sensitive bloke and could tell she did not take away as much from the exchange as he did. Nonetheless, they remained friends and devoted daters. The relationship actually kept caddish suitors at bay.

Richard’s two best friends were brothers, Phil and Dannie McElroy. Born in Ireland nineteen months apart but raised in Hampshire, the two were as different as night and day. Phil had reddish-brown hair, was five-nine, and of slight build. Dannie was dark, six-one, and muscular. They both had crushes on Therese as well. If not for Therese’s considerable referee skills the three young men would have come to blows over her more than a few times. The four’s shared love of flying and aircraft was the calming tie.

In late 1939, Therese was envious of her young men getting snatched up by the flying services to fight the Germans. With civilian pilot licenses in their teens and dozens of hours logged, the three aviators were a rare-commodity.

Richard joined the Fleet Air Arm and was flying Gloster Gladiator fighters from HMS _Glorious_ until her sinking in June 1940. Richard was rescued and waiting for reassignment when the Battle of Britain started. Desperately short of fighter pilots, Richard was temporarily assigned to the Royal Air Force with 11 Group flying Hawker Hurricanes out of Tangmere. He shot down four Luftwaffe bombers and three Messerschmitt Bf-109 fighters, becoming an ace. At present, Richard was back on a carrier with the Royal Navy piloting Fairey Fulmars off of the HMS _Ark Royal._ He could not say in his letters, but she assumed he was in the Mediterranean; the newspapers frequently contained articles describing valiant naval engagements pertaining to the defence and supply of Malta.

Dannie and Phil joined the RAF and were flying Spitfires out of Biggin Hill during the Battle of Britain. Surprisingly, the Royal Air Force let them serve in the same squadron. They specialized in tackling German escort fighters, enabling the stalwart Hurricanes to take out the attacking bomber formations. Between July 1940 and May 1941, they racked up twenty-one kills. Phil shot down seven fighters and three bombers to his “little” brother’s eight and three. They had been transferred to the RAF’s Desert Air Force back in the summer and were now flying Curtiss Kittyhawks in North Africa.

Therese was kept busy corresponding with the three of them. The men were diligent letter writers, but the demands of combat made for a sporadic flow of mail. She missed her “boyfriends” dearly and knew all too well the nasty odds of one, two, or heaven forbid, all three of them becoming casualties of war.

All three men were not surprised by the news of Therese’s acceptance into the ATA. She could navigate and perform acrobatics with the best of them. There would be none of the later in the ATA. The policy stated that the ferry pilots were urged to fly straight and level while maintaining modest speeds.

Grace and Therese enjoyed their eggs, toast, and tea while chatting it up with the other girls. It was a clear sky, and Abby had already come in with a weather forecast from the met office stating that it should be a good weather day for ferries to most destinations other than northwest England and southwest Scotland.

Carol was finishing her breakfast when Therese arrived, but Carol only shared a cursory glance and “good morning” with her. There were no open seats around Carol, so Grace and Therese found spots at another table. Therese caught a glimpse of Carol’s back as the CO departed a few minutes later.

Grace escorted Therese to the mail slots in the admin office and helped Therese locate her own slot. There was only one chit in Therese’s slot. She felt shorted at first as the other girls had two, three, and even four each. The women compared chits and soon had itineraries set. Therese would not be waiting for an air taxi like the other girls. She had a Spitfire Mk V freshly repaired awaiting her at the Air Service Training (AST) facility here at Hamble. Now she knew why she only received one chit, the destination for her Spitfire was RAF Andreas on the Isle of Man. The distance of the flight was 260 miles, and a weather front was moving in from Ireland.

Molly Slack gently tapped Therese on the shoulder. “I can drive you over to AST, Ma’am.”

“Oh, thanks, Molly.”

Therese walked out to find Carol sitting in the front passenger seat of the Austin 10. Therese hopped in the back seat and Molly had them rolling in no time.

Carol glanced over her shoulder at Therese and winked, “AST has two Spits ready for one of the Aussie squadrons on that soggy island.”

Molly laughed, but Therese could manage little more than a nervous chuckle as she stared at Carol’s alabaster profile. Carol’s blonde curls danced away from the blue cap. At that moment, Therese was thankful the ATA women were civilians and did not have to conform to the military’s draconian dress and grooming standards. The ATA women made it a point to be stylish with hairstyles and makeup rivalling Hollywood starlets at times. Therese’s simple straight brown hair was quite plain in comparison, but she loved the way it shook out effortless after the removal of her leather flight helmet. Therese had confidence in her own appearance. The opposite sex had doted on her since puberty, and she found favour in the visage that appeared in her mirror of a pixyish brunette with dramatic eyebrows, long natural lashes, green eyes, and dimples delivered with every smile or grin. Her handful of female lovers had never had any complaints either.

The two shark-like fighter planes were fueled and ready for them at ATA’s hangar. After preflight procedures were completed, a couple of ground crewmen eagerly helped them take to their aircraft and find spots for their small overnight bags as well. After the exhausts belched a few seconds of fire and black smoke, the ladies had the 1,500 horsepower Rolls-Royce Merlin 45 engines turning.

They taxied out on the runway and took off together banking away from the breaking dawn before vectoring northwest towards the Isle of Man. Given the length of the ferry, they climbed much higher than the day before and found a faster cruising speed. Therese carefully trimmed out her fighter. Carol waved at her once. Her heart leapt at that.

Thickening clouds greeted them as they proceeded north. Just after they landed at Andreas, a steady rain began. Weather conditions fell below the ATA standards of an 800-foot ceiling and a 1,500-yard visual. Carol commented, “I suspected this would be the case. I knew we could beat the front’s arrival in fighters, but I’d have never departed in anything slower.” An Andreas officer signed off on their chits, and the women made their way to the mess hall for lunch.

They sat down to a lunch of bacon sarnies and tea. Therese smiled after taking the first bite of the hearty sandwich. Carol returned the gesture as she chewed away. Carol swallowed and commented, “That’s a bit of alright, hmm, love?”

 _Love ..._ pondered Therese; it was such a casually tossed address in their world. Therese eyed the wedding band on Carol’s left hand. She dismissed it all as a one-sided infatuation. Therese noted that Carol seemed to be hanging on for a reply. She snapped back into the moment, “Yes, these are delicious. I’m hungry enough to eat two.”

Carol seemed relieved to have pulled Therese back from wherever she had gone. She chuckled at her young pilot’s candour, but a matronly civilian worker had overheard the comment and soon walked over to them. “Ladies, we had one left, I cut it in half for the two of you.”

Carol chimed, “Well, thank you, my dear!”

“You’re most welcome, Ma’am,” the woman said, and she lingered a moment taking in the dashing aviatrixes.

Therese knew the woman wanted to live vicariously through her and Carol. Therese imagined the woman wanting to ask from whence they had flown and how long it took and how fast and high they flew. Unfortunately, _Loose lips sink ships_ , so they could do little but patiently return the smile. Therese seconded the thank you and added a gentle pat on her forearm. That seemed to satisfy this resident of the Irish Sea, and she stepped back to her kitchen.

As they finished their meal, Carol commented, “Therese, you flew very well today. I’d let you do it by yourself in a heartbeat.”

Shocked, Therese gazed at Carol.

Carol continued, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but a letter accompanied your file from White Waltham. Your chief instructor said he would have sent you out as a second officer rather than a first if not for the sake of propriety.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, but we’ll soon take care of that. I’ll give it a week or two, but know that it is coming.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you.”

Therese tensed as what was obviously the base commander, entered the room. He beamed, “Hello, Carol.”

“Hello, Banger!”

“I arranged this weather just for you.”

“I appreciate that, old chum, it is perfectly lovely.”

“He laughed and shook her hand while asking, “Have you heard from Harge?”

“Not for days. I imagine Harris has him running in circles.”

“Ah, I can only imagine, and what of the precious, Rindy?”

“Oh, I miss her dearly. We talked on the dog last week. She is keeping my poor Mum hopping.”

“A labour of love on the part of your mother, I’m sure.”

“One can hope… Oh, Banger, I’d like to introduce our newest pilot, Therese Belivet. Therese, this is Squadron Leader Niles Crawley.”

“Good afternoon, Belivet, it’s a pleasure.”

“Mine as well, Sir.”

“When did they drop you at Hamble?”

“Yesterday.”

“What… and already flying a Spit to the Isle of Man?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Impressive, Belivet.”

“Thank you, Leader Crawley.”

“Carol, I’ve just come from the watch office. I’ve got a couple of options for you. We are socked in through tomorrow… squalls are forecast. We can put you up somewhere overnight, or—”

“Or?” smirked Carol.

“I’ve told the commander of a motor torpedo boat tied at the pier to hold up. He’s bound for Liverpool. You could be at Liverpool in an hour and a half and catch an evening train to Southampton. The heavier winds won’t hit for a while; the boat trip will be a rainy one but relatively smooth.”

Carol glanced at Therese.

Banger patiently waited.

“Let’s take a boat ride, Therese.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good decision, ladies. You’d be bored to tears here.”

“Thank you, Banger.”

“Not at all… Quimby has my car outside. He’ll take you to the dock. The skipper grew up down your way on the Isle of Wight; he’s a nice chap named Wilkinson.”

Quimby drove Therese and Carol to the dock. The rain was heavy, so they ran to the MTB while Quimby followed with their overnight bags. As two sailors helped the pilots board the 70-foot craft, Quimby tossed their bags to another. Therese waved goodbye to Quimby and hollered thanks.

Wilkinson escorted them to the cabin below and handed them towels. He returned topside to see to their departure. Therese’s eyes grew wide at the familiar sound of Rolls-Royce Merlin engines. Carol laughed and loudly announced, “Yes, it has three of them.”

A half-hour later, both ladies were feeling a little woozy. Wilkinson came down and saw their pale complexions. “Ladies, we have actually outdistanced the front. It’s lovely at the moment… come on up. I suggest you leave the caps; you might lose them.”

Therese took his hand and stepped up on deck. She reached back to give Carol a hand. It was “lovely” indeed. The salt air and spray were refreshing. Carol’s locks fluttered in the wind and Therese chuckled at the mesmerized sailors.

Carol asked Wilkinson, “Thirty-five knots?”

“Forty, Ma’am.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Therese pointed out the storm front standing like a dark grey wall behind them. Carol raised her eyebrows at sight then glanced back at Therese. Framed against the storm, the image took Therese’s breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/wLpAUOb)   
> 


	4. By Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/xAvqSF9)  
>  Wolverhampton Station

After a mad dash in Liverpool, Therese and Carol made their train. The train was full of civilian commuters and armed forces personnel. They finally managed to find seats in one of the compartments. They squeezed in directly across from one another next to the windows; of course, no one else wanted the October chill on their shoulder. Therese sat next to a middle-aged businessman that smelled of pipe tobacco and peppermint. She noticed that Carol was shoulder to shoulder with a tall Royal Artillery corporal.

After two stops, more folks left their compartment than came in. Therese was tempted to sit by Carol, but her hesitation cost her as two nuns slipped in next to Carol at the second stop.

They had to change trains at Wolverhampton, and there was a wait. It was a quarter to eight. Carol suggested they have a meat pie at the station’s little café. It was chilly in the café, so they unrolled and draped their flight suits over their laps like blankets. The pies weren’t the best, but they were filling, and the tea was freshly brewed.

Carol flicked her hair back behind her ear. Therese was delighted to catch the faintest whiff of perfume. “Hmm,” she uttered. “Your perfume.”

“Yes?”

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you. Harge bought me a bottle years ago, and I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

“Harge is your husband.”

“Yes, well technically, we’re divorcing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be… we’ve been having issues for some time. The war and our service postings have made it simple to put it all on hold.”

“You have a daughter… ‘Rindy,’ I think Leader Crawley said?”

“Yes… for Nerinda.”

“Oh, how cute.”

“Not as cute as her, love.”

 _Love,_ there it was again. _No, no, no, Therese… it means nothing._

A silence ensued. Therese blurted, “Can you imagine what it feels like to press the firing button on the stick of a fighter plane with loaded cannons?”

Carol laughed, “Dear, me! You are a naughty girl. Yes, actually, I’ve imagined it myself… I witnessed a shoot down once.”

“Where?”

“Over Lincolnshire, in August of 40, I was ferrying a Defiant to RAF Kirton in Lindsey. It was… “the fruits of our labour” one might say. Yes, I glimpsed a black trail of smoke quartering in on me from two nine zero. It was a Dornier with two Hurricanes nipping at it like a pair of hyenas. I slowed, and the Jerry bomber passed below and in front of me… a half-mile distant.”

“Did you see it crash?”

“I saw two of its crewman bailout then it tumbled out of control and augured into a field. After landing, I told the officer on duty to report the jumpers’ position and gave him some landmarks.”

“A story like that makes me wish we had radios in our aircraft.”

“True enough, dearie.”

“The “Harris” Leader Crawley spoke of… is that the 5 Group commander… bombers?”

“You don’t miss a thing.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no. I like the way you pay attention.”

 _I pay attention to everything to do with you, ‘love’_. Therese glanced down at her tea.

Carol patted her forearm, “Honestly, Therese, it’s fine… yes, Harge is a squadron leader with 5 Group.”

“Avro Manchesters?”

“Very good.”

They both took another sip and glanced about the café.

Carol slightly leaned in and asked with a bit of drama in her voice, “And, do you have a fellow, Therese Belivet?”

Embarrassed but charmed, Therese stammered, “No, well three… not like that though… I mean, they are dear friends.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Carol smirked.

“Richard, Dannie, and Phil have been my mates since my dad got me in the flying club at Eastleigh when I was fourteen.”

“Nothing romantic there?”

“Not on my part, but all three of them want to marry me.”

“Hmm, modest,” grinned Carol.

“Oh, you… I must sound so egotistical.”

“Well, from anyone else, I might say yes, but you have familial love in your eyes when you talk about them. Their attachment to you despite your keeping everything platonic speaks well of you.”

“Well, almost platonic.” Therese could not believe she said that.

“Really?”

“Uh, yes… Richard and I…” Therese glanced out the window.

“Enough said, love.”

Therese glanced back to find Carol’s eyes burning into her own. Seconds passed. _My goodness, she gets it!_

The sound of an approaching train broke the stare.

The woman behind the counter announced, “Ladies, that’s for Southampton.”

Carol responded, “Thank you, dear.”

They rolled up their flight suits and secured them to their bags, then paid their bills and headed for the platform. Once again, they found themselves across from one another in a compartment. Therese was disappointed that any shared glances with Carol were quickly cut off as if Carol was embarrassed or perhaps annoyed with her. A couple of stops left only the two of them in the compartment, but Carol had nodded off with her head angelically resting against the window. Therese felt her eyes growing heavy, and she passed into sleep as well.

She awoke to find Carol next to her. Therese’s head was resting on Carol’s shoulder. Carol must have felt her stir and gently asked, “Did you have a good sleep, dearest?”

Therese stiffly straightened, smiled, and softly replied, “Lovely, thanks.”

“A guard came by to inform us of time to station, but I shushed him to prevent waking you.”

“Oh, I wonder if—“

“No, Therese, he just saw a Captain giving her weary junior officer a shoulder to sleep on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“How close are we?”

“Perhaps ten minutes.”

“Oh!” Therese stood, stretched, and returned to her side of the compartment to gather her bag and cap. She sat there.

“Therese, by the time we get to Hamble it will be close to midnight. You can sleep in tomorrow. Just report about ten… or do you attend church?”

“I forgot it was Saturday night.”

“Yes, they all blur together when we fly seven days a week.”

“No, I don’t regularly attend services. I’ll be there at ten.”

“I’m not much of a churchgoer either, but I won’t be there tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ve managed three days leave; I’m going to my mother’s house in Broadheath to spend some time with Rindy.”

“Oh, that will be nice.”

“Quite.”

“Broadheath?”

“Yes, it is a village in Worcestershire.”

“West Midlands?”

“That’s right… actually, we were not that far from it at Liverpool and Wolverhampton tonight.

“Did you say you called Hamble from there?”

“Yes, I called to have them send Molly Slack in the Austin to Southampton Central; she’ll fetch us home.”

“That will help.”

“Indeed.”

Therese crept into her room after midnight. She undressed, donned her pyjamas, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.


	5. "A Lift To Eastleigh"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/1qFFPS7)  
>   
>  Wolsley Hornet
> 
> By the way, I was raised with the Oxford comma, and for this English tale, I'm spelling the colour "grey" with an "e". Enjoy.

Throughout the rest of October and early November, Therese had a “smashing good time” ferrying planes to and fro from one end of the British Isles to the other. A typical morning might entail a Spitfire from Vickers to White Waltham at Maidenhead, a Fulmar to Lee on Solent, then an Albacore to Hayes in Middlesex. Carol was good for her word, and Therese was promoted to Second Officer.

The pool at Hamble was growing in number. Therese worried a bit about Carol. Her captain was kept very busy managing the growth, especially the new, less experienced pilots. Two more ferry aircraft were added to their fleet in November thus the number of mechanics was increased. The volume of ferries grew weekly.

Therese’s leave rotated around in mid-November, and she looked forward to a weekend in Eastleigh with her mother and grandmother. Therese was about to board the Saturday morning bus when a blue Wolseley Hornet pulled up beside her. Carol was at the wheel. “Hop in, Belivet, I’ll give you a lift to Eastleigh… I assume that is where you’re headed?”

Therese’s heart leapt into her throat. She stood speechless.

Carol said, “Wait… let’s put your bag in the boot.” She put the transmission in neutral, applied the hand brake, and stepped to the back of the petite sports car taking Therese’s overnight bag as she passed her. Therese felt like she was floating as she nestled into the brown leather passenger seat. They sped away. Carol murmured, “Now, I’ve got you.”

Therese was not sure if she had heard what she thought she heard. She calmed herself and tried to make conversation. Therese noticed that Carol was dressed warmly in a civilian anorak over a heavy cream-coloured sweater with tan trousers and sturdy shoes. “You look outdoorsy today, Captain.”

“How about ‘Carol’ today?”

“Very well… ‘Carol’… hmm, that will take some getting used to.”

They chuckled and exchanged sparkling eyed glances. Carol explained, “Yes, I’ve taken the weekend… just looking for some time by myself. Flying over the New Forrest the other day, I said to myself, “There is some jolly good hiking down there.”

Therese grinned, “So, you’re going hiking… by yourself… in the New Forrest?”

“Well, I don’t know. What would you like to do... if you could do anything, you wanted in the whole wide world?”

Therese was dumbfounded. She panicked for a second. Therese felt her cheeks blushing.

Therese’s reaction must have told Carol legions. “See here; I’ve got a suggestion… spend it with me.” She added a devilish side-glance; Therese remembered it from once before on day one at Biggin Hill.

Therese asked herself if this was really happening. Was Carol just wanting a girls-getaway, or was this more. Therese’s burning loins certainly screamed that it was more. Whichever, Therese was all in. “Yes.”

“Yes… what?”

“Yes, I’ll spend it with you.”

Carol’s eyebrow arched as she offered a questioning glance.

Therese tried her best to signal her fire with a gaze.

Carol cocked her head back and laughed out loud, “Ah, what a beautiful sky! This will be glorious.”

 _I’ll make you think ‘glorious’ you lovely creature…_ “I’ll need to ring my mum.”

“Actually, how about we drop by there. I’d love to meet her… and your... ‘Gram’ is it?”

“Yes, but…”

“Leave it to me, Therese. I don’t want to totally deprive them of your company this weekend. We’ll spend the morning. Do you have some hiking clothes similar to these?”

“Certainly.”

“Well then, we’ll have our visit then depart for our hike… and then… and then we’ll see.”

“Will you regret not seeing Rindy this weekend?”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to, love… Harge has her this weekend.”

“Is he a good father?”

“The best, he cherishes our daughter.”

“Turn here.”

“Right?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, okay… I’ve got it.”

“Do you ever see him?”

“Harge?”

“Yes.”

“Hardly ever. Even though flying was what brought us together, he has wanted me to give it up ever since we married. My joining the ATA in 1939 was the last straw. He thinks it is very unfair to Rindy. I guess he has a point at some level, but my mother loves keeping her, and she supports my work... firmly believing it is vital… perhaps raising Rindy… for a few years… is her way of fighting the war.”

“How old is Rindy?”

“Eight.”

“Does she like her school?”

“Well enough.”

“Your dad passed away?”

“Yes, he was abroad in the Foreign Service and caught some godforsaken illness in Africa… 1934. They weren’t going to ship his remains home, but my grandfather raised Cane with a friend or two in Parliament and we got him home. He is buried in our little church’s cemetery in the family’s corner. My grandfather passed the next year with the satisfaction of having fought for his son and won.”

“That’s instilling, Carol… I mean… sometimes one has to stand up for what is right and proper.”

Carol glanced at Therese with watering eyes at the centre of a proud visage.

A few moments later something dawned on Therese, “I love your Hornet, but how did you manage the petrol?”

“I’ve been saving my ration coupons for an outing like this. I always take the train to see Mum and Rindy… as a matter of fact; she hasn’t been cranked in weeks. I was concerned about the battery.”

“So, she started right up?”

“Yes.”

Therese took in the scenery and snugged her overcoat tight. Carol noticed it and asked, “Are you cold, darling? I can stop and put the top on.”

“No… please… I love it… rather like a Tiger Moth.”

Carol laughed at the comparison to the RAF’s stalwart, open cockpit, training biplanes. “That is true enough, love… true enough.”

_‘Love’… ‘darling’… she is killing me!_

*****

After an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek, Therese beamed, “Mummy, this is my Flight Captain, Carol Aird. She has the weekend free as well, and we decided to knock along together.”

“Hello, Captain Aird… Joan Belivet… it is nice to meet you in person. I feel like I know you already from my daughter’s glowing references to you in her letters.”

“‘Glowing?’... Really? She must be under the influence of the Spitfire fumes." Carol shook Joan’s hand.

A lovely white-haired woman approached, patting her hands on her apron. Therese hugged her, “Oh, Gram! I’ve missed you so.”

“Ah, Therese, my darling girl, you look smashing in that uniform… but thin. Are they feeding you enough?”

“Yes, Gram, more than enough.”

Carol interjected, “Now one should be truthful with one’s grandmother, Therese.”

Therese waved off Carol dismissively, and they all laughed.

“I’m Anna Granger, Captain Aird; it’s lovely to meet you.” She took Carol’s hand in both of hers.

“Thank you, Mrs Granger, I apologize for the unannounced intrusion on Therese’s visit.”

“No, no… this is a grand surprise. I always say, ‘the more, the merrier’… don’t I, Kestrel?”

Therese concurred, “She does, Captain… she does indeed.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, asking Therese, “Kestrel?”

“Oh, that’s what Gram calls me.”

Anna went on, “Yes, she breathed, ate, and slept all things flying growing up. I use to say, “Take care, little one, or someday you’ll magically turn into a kestrel falcon.”

Carol laughingly replied, “Well, you were correct, Mrs Granger, she is a kestrel… one of my best.”

Therese blushed, while the older ladies beamed with pride.

Joan ushered them into the sitting room after closing the front door. “We were expecting you about this time, Therese, so we’ve prepared second breakfast.”

Carol chimed, “So, that’s the source of this intoxicating redolence.”

Joan had juggled her ration book to assemble a fine spread of sausages, eggs, marmalade, scones, and butter.

Therese, seeing the moisture in Carol’s eyes, could tell her commander realized how dear these supplies were. She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Carol patted it in appreciation. Carol had retrieved a paper bag from the boot before they entered. She opened the bag and handed an unlabeled jar to Joan. “My mother in Worcestershire put up these cherry preserves this year. May I contribute to the feast?”

“Oh, dear! How marvellous… did your mum grow the cherries, dear?” exclaimed Anna.

“She did. I tease her about having a ‘red thumb’. The property has a small orchard.”

Now Therese had the teary eyes; Carol’s gesture was thoughtful.

They sat, ate, drank tea, and laughed for the better part of an hour.

“Thank you so much for this meal, ladies. Therese, can you cook like this as well?”

Joan and Anna chuckled, as Anna remarked, “Carburetors and spanners are more Kestrel’s kit.”

Therese nodded in agreement.

The altered plans for the weekend came up, and after a bit of disappointment, Joan and Anna seemed to understand. They enthusiastically encouraged the younger women to enjoy their afternoon excursion.

Therese went up to her room to change clothing.

Joan and Anna insisted Carol take them outside to admire her automobile. Therese rejoined them in time to witness Carol, giving Anna a spin around the village.

After more chatting and a few hands of Gin Rummy, Therese and Carol departed at a quarter to noon.

Upon entering the New Forrest region, Carol pulled to the side of the road and handed Therese a map. Carefully unfolded in Therese’s lap, Carol placed her finger on the map, “Belivet, we are here,” then running her pointer over to a circled location, she commanded, “Navigate us there.”

“Burley?”

“Yes.”

“What’s in Burley?”

“Be patient, love. Don’t you like surprises?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/pftyZQ0)  
>   
> A female Kestrel


	6. "A Charming Brick Cottage"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/2g4elrX)   
> 

They sat with the little six-cylinder chugging away. Therese jokingly asked, “Well, this is Burley. Where to, Skipper?”

“Let’s see; Beck said to take the main road north two miles and turn right at the large Tudor.”

“Who’s Beck?” Therese asked, jealous of anyone other than she occupying Carol’s mind at this moment.

“An old school chum of mine… Rebecca Smithers.”

“Are we staying with Beck?”

“Heavens no.”

Carol took them north.

Therese announced, “There’s a Tudor… large by my book.”

“Very good, darling.”

They turned right. The road deteriorated to an earthy single lane. Therese, concerned, was anxiously studying the map. Carol braked the Hornet to a halt. Therese looked up to find a charming brick cottage standing before them. Carol eased the car up closer to the door, shut down the engine, and applied the handbrake.

“This is it. What do you think, Therese?”

“Well, it’s marvellous, but—”

“No ‘but’… c’mon, sweetheart, help me put the top up and carry in our things from the boot.”

Therese noticed there was not a neighbouring house in sight. Her heart raced.

The skies had turned cloudy, and the temperature dropped accordingly. Carol walked over to a rock sitting in the garden and tilted it up. She pulled a rusty cigarette tin from underneath. She teasingly shook it at Therese once again sporting the aforementioned grin; the box rattled. After popping off the lid, she removed a door key. Carol raced to the door and soon had it unlocked and open. She cautioned, “Beck said it might be a bit musty and dusty as she has not been here since the summer.” After a cursory inspection, Carol declared, “Not dirty at all.” Then added, “Oh, my, the loo is out back… firsties on that, love.”

They took their bags and a covered basket into the cottage and placed them on its little kitchen table. Carol announced, “It doesn’t have electricity; help me light a couple of these oil lamps.” They soon had the wicks flickering. Carol gestured to the fireplace, “Good Ol’ Beck… look at that… she said it was stocked with firewood, and sure enough.”

Therese could control herself no longer. She stammered, “You mean we’ve got this for the weekend… not a soul to be seen for acres… just the two of us?”

Carol laughed to the rafters, “That would be, yes, yes, and yes, my darling.”

“And, we’re not going hiking are we?”

“Just upstairs to the bedroom.”

Therese felt a bit lightheaded. Carol saw her pale and grasped her arms, easing her down on the leather settee. “Have I overwhelmed you, dearest?”

She loved the concern in Carol’s expression. Therese asked, “You’ve had this planned, haven’t you, Carol?”

“Of course. When I approved your time off week before last, I had to play my hand. I want to be with you more than anything, Therese.”

“Carol, how did you know…”

“Oh, Therese, I didn’t know at first, but I was sure of it today. You want me, too; don’t you, my love?”

Therese took her mouth to Carol’s. She melted as their lips pressed together, and Carol’s perfume enveloped her. Carol slipped her tongue between Therese’s lips and gently explored the delicate space.

After the minute of a lifetime, Carol pulled away and tilted her head down. She dreamily reported, “Now I’m the dizzy one. As first kisses go, that was… one might say … spectacular. You are a special woman, Therese.”

Therese smiled contently. Her breathing was heavier yet calm and steady.

Carol glanced at the fireplace. “I was chilled to the bone when we arrived … after that open-top drive and all, but—”

“Not so much now … I know … same, same.”

They sighed, chuckled, and nodded. Carol said, “Yes, it will feel good later. Matches should be on the mantel and kindling in the box.”

They worked together to get a fire going. Therese pulled the fire screen across.

“A drink, darling?” asked Carol.

“Oh, did your Beck say there was liquor here?”

“Well, no, but I brought some things for us.” Carol walked to the basket on the table and lifted the lid. She took out a prewar bottle of burgundy and an ancient scotch.

Therese excitedly examined the rest of the contents. She inventoried a couple of hardboiled eggs, some cheese, water biscuits, a box of Scottish shortbreads, two chocolate bars, a tin of meat, a little box of tea, and a can of evaporated milk. “You are a devil, Carol Aird… you thought of everything. If you were in charge of the ministry of defence, the war would be won. We won’t even need sugar for our tea with that sweet milk.”

“We best leave with some light tomorrow … what … about two or three. It’s a quarter to two now. You are mine for 24 heavenly hours. Let’s not waste a moment, dear.”

Therese touched Carol’s cheek, then nodded and walked to the kitchen cabinets. The first opening revealed some glasses. She picked a mismatched pair of small ones and returned. “A bit of the Wee Bairns, please,” giggled Therese.

“Very good, my lassie,” chimed Carol. She poured them a finger each, and they sipped away while smiling and gazing into one another’s eyes.

“Take me to bed, Captain ... but bring the Scotch.”

They watched each other undress from across the bed. Carol chuckled, “Sexy outfits, huh, Second Officer Belivet?”

Therese laughed and lost her balance as she worked on a stubborn shoelace. She collapsed on the feather bed then moaned at its softness. Carol joined her. They pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes until the two ivory beauties were without a stitch. They crawled to the head of the bed and pulled the comforter, blanket, and sheet down. The two pilots enjoined in a locked embrace and a long kiss rivalling their first one. Carol paused to look into Therese’s eyes. “My Spitfire angel … flung out of space.”

The two struggled for control until Carol surrendered to enjoy Therese’s tender affections. Therese worked Carol from head to toe with sweet kisses and gentle bites. Therese ran her tongue along Carol’s apex, and the captain quivered. The younger woman stopped at the clitoris and delivered waves of oral pleasure to Carol. Therese hoped Carol's screams didn’t carry too far from the woodsy abode.

They paused to catch their breath. Therese rested her head on Carol’s wonderful belly. Carol gasped, “How many women have you been with, young lady?”

“Just three, but I must say, you are the best tasting. Perhaps my search is over. How about you, Ma’am?”

Carol laughed and tapped her lover’s noggin, “A couple… the second one broke my heart.”

“Oh, really? I would have thought …”

“More?”

“Well, you certainly captured me … such confidence.”

“Yes, well, one relationship was lengthy for …”

“Our … kind?”

“That sounds horrible … but true.”

Carol stoked Therese’s soft brown hair.

Therese sighed.

Carol girlishly inquired, "Will you break my heart, Therese Belivet?”

“Not possible.”

“No hesitation there.”

Somewhat hurt, Therese fired, “And there shouldn’t be. I was in love with you from the first moment I saw you. At first, I wrote it off to physical attraction… you’re a beauty, Carol. But, every exchange was positive. The rare physical contacts were electric. You treated me with a respect I’ve seldom received. This… this… today is a dream come true. I’m still not sure it’s actually happening.”

Carol turned on her side and urged Therese into her arms. “Let me assure you, my darling … it’s all quite real.”

Carol kissed Therese long and deep until Therese warmed, then she pressed Therese flat on her back and spent magic minutes, nibbling and kissing those most luscious young breasts. Carol took her hand to Therese’s moist crevasse, and deftly worked her love to climax. Therese did the screaming now. Carol smiled and gazed throughout like a master sculptress admiring her creation.

As dusk stole there light, Carol pulled the covers up over them and held Therese as if she would never let her go. Therese revelled in the embrace. The exhausted couple napped for over an hour.

They awoke together, appropriately enough, then Therese announced, “I’m famished, Captain… how about I fetch that basket of goodies. Is it too early for the wine?”

“Heavens know … be careful those stairs are steep.”

Therese had stood, she leaned over and kissed Carol, promising, “I will… no silly misstep is going to interfere with our ‘dream’.”

As Therese pranced down to the first floor, Carol called, “Bigger glasses, love! We did close all the shutters and curtains, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Captain!”

Carol must have shivered at the cold. She gathered the comforter and blanket and dashed down to intercept Therese. “Hey, I have a better idea. Let’s have our tasties in front of the fire. Carol spread the blanket over the oval rug and helped Therese bring the food and drink to the hearth. They retrieved nightgowns from their bags and put them on. Carol punched up the fire and added a generous amount of wood. With the big comforter over their shoulders, they dined.

Distant thunder rolled. Therese tensed. Carol assured, “It’s just thunder, dearest … not a load of eggs from Jerry. Therese listened to the next set and was assured that Carol was correct.

They talked about silly things and serious ones. They laughed at smart remarks and bad jokes. They kissed.

Therese observed, “Good idea, you coming down, these water biscuits would have fouled our love nest.”

Carol concurred with a chuckle.

The rain started to fall as they were tidying up. Carol noted, “Well, we’ll find out if she has any leaks.”

Carol turned from the sink to discover Therese on the first step with an outreached hand. Carol stepped to grasp it. Therese led her upstairs. She slipped off her own gown then lifted Carols up and off. Therese wanted Carol again so badly it hurt. After pulling her into bed, she passionately kissed her. Then sprawled on top of Carol with flesh massaging flesh and hands grasping one another’s up past their heads. Carol loved to control Carol, but she loved being controlled by her as well. They meshed. Therese had not asked Carol’s age. It couldn’t be much over thirty, but the responsibilities her captain carried were large. There were no grey hairs or wrinkles yet. War can do that, she thought. It could do it to a sprog like her. And, if that transpired, so be it. At this moment, Carol was perfect, and their love had the chance of being perfect.

In the morning, they slept late, had a wash, then made tea and ate the eggs with the scrumptious shortbreads. They almost passed on a walk even though the rain stopped hours ago. They fretted over-explaining their presence to the passing Old Mr Whatever or Miss Noisy Rosie. Therese noted how uncivilized the land behind the house seemed, so they hiked in that direction. It was cold, but the freshly washed world smelled wonderful, and there was enough blue in the sky to complement Carol’s eyes.

They came across wandering cattle and cute little ponies. Therese recalled the area practised open grazing with the livestock meandering to their heart’s content. One of the fuzzy ponies was quite playful and followed them back to their door. Therese carried it out two of the water biscuits, and it liked the salt. It seemed satisfied as it shortly wandered off.

They warmed up again in front of the fire while drinking the last of their tea and splitting the remaining chocolate bar. Later, Carol sat with her legs out and her back resting against the couch. Therese curled up beside her with her head in Carol’s lap. She so hoped that Carol would stroke her hair just like the night before; Carol did.

There was a fun little board game on the mantel, so they played it and never were truly sure who won. Therese felt like they both did.

The thought of their time being over was painful. They decided to leave at one o'clock and get it over with. On a positive note, they found a good place for an afternoon meal along the way. The rationing made for simple fare, but the chicken, potatoes, and vegetables were well prepared and warming.

As they neared Hamble, Therese almost cried. Carol noticed. She subtly squeezed Therese’s leg and promised, “We’ll find the time, darling … we’ll make the time.”


	7. Abby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/oLaZNJo)  
>  The view forward of an Avro Anson's cockpit.

On Monday, December 22, 1941, Therese finished her tea, toast, and powdered eggs and made her way to the watch office to claim her chits. She discovered no chits in her slot, only a note to report to Abby. Therese located Abby outside and asked her what was up.

“Good morning, Therese … yes, I’ve been summoned with the rest of the ATA’s administrative officers to White Waltham. I need for you to fly me up there, cool your heels for a couple of hours, and fly me back.”

Therese had not picked up the best of vibes from Abby for the past few weeks. Heart on her sleeve, Therese asked, “Might it not be a better use of personnel to have one of the new girls taxi you. I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Belivet, and no, it will be you, and that is all I’ll hear of it.”

Therese glanced back towards Carol’s office, and Abby remarked, “What? You want to run to mummy with this?”

Therese’s eyes shot back to Abby’s. “No, Ma’am.”

“Good, we’re taking Winston. We’ll drop Grace and Alice at Eastleigh Vickers for their first Spits of the day then proceed to White Waltham. Please perform your preflight and be ready in twenty. I mustn’t be late.”

“Very well, Ma’am.”

Therese somberly made her way to the Anson they affectionately named Winston; the other two air taxis were King George and Princess Elizabeth.

After delivering her two peers, Therese was airborne for White Waltham. Much to Therese’s annoyance, Abby moved up to the copilot seat located a bit behind and to the right of the pilot’s seat.

Nothing was said for minutes. Therese froze when Abby suddenly asked, “So, have you been enjoying our commander?”

Therese forced poise, and calmly answered, “Yes, she is an exceptional leader and a fine pilot.”

“But how is she between the sheets, my dear?”

Therese glanced over her shoulder at Abby, who at this moment might as well have been a priest of the Grand Inquisition. The fire in Abby’s light brown eyes belied her calm smile. Therese turned her attention back to the controls after they hit a bit of turbulence.

It had snowed the day before, and a white world spread before them as they climbed to five thousand feet. Therese adjusted the trim tabs and throttle to smooth the aircraft.

Abby must have been letting Therese stew. She spoke again, but this time, the tone was more pleasant. “Don’t worry, Therese, your precious Carol didn’t reveal your secret.”

Therese glanced back again, trying to read her passenger.

Abby continued, “No, I’ve been in your spot.”

Therese asked, “What do you mean?”

“Dearie, you are naïve, I was with Carol long before you.”

Dumbfounded, Therese sheepishly asked, “She said someone broke her heart. Was that—”

“Me? Heavens no! I was her first back in 1939. The heartbreaker was the one who wooed her from me.”

“Is she someone at Hamble?”

“No, dear, she was a curvaceous French-Canadian witch that transferred back to the Canadian Women’s Auxiliary Air Force.”

“What was her name?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s history … a bad dream … a nightmare.”

“Are there others?”

“You mean in the ATA? Not that I’m aware of … and hell be it if we three are ever exposed.”

Therese felt queasy and scared … she wished she had eaten nothing at breakfast. “Where are you going with this, Abby?”

“Nowhere. To be honest, the cloud you two have been floating on simply perturbed me. I’m sorry for that… it’s certainly not your fault that I’m nothing more than a ‘dear friend’ of Carol’s. I admit to having aspirations of winning her back… that is until you arrived.”

“I see… and that is why you had me fly you today? You wanted to talk about all this?”

“Yes. Cruel of me, hmm, love?”

“I guess, but I respect your honesty … Carol should have said something.”

“Don’t judge her too harshly… that’s just how Carol is, darling. I imagine much of her guarded nature comes from having been a wife and mother for years. Honestly, Therese, you and I certainly don’t have that bailiwick to deal with. Legally, she’s still a married woman … an adulteress and, heaven forbid, a lesbian.”

Therese brushed a tear from her cheek. Abby pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and passed it to Therese’s hand.

A moment later, Abby reached forward and squeezed Therese’s shoulder. Therese found the physical contact sincere and empathetic.

Abby cautioned, “Therese, the two of you must be more cautious; I’ve caught some things, and even as obtuse as these man crazy girls are, the more discerning of them might—”

“I understand … thanks.”

They landed smoothly at White Waltham, and Abby rushed off to her meeting. Therese saw to the Anson then went to their sizeable mess for tea. She tried to look at a magazine one of the trainees had left, but the pages might as well have been blank.

The return flight had a very different air. Abby was all her usual bubbly self again. She openly shared with Therese the purpose of the meeting. They were creating plans and goals relevant to the impending influx of Americans. Wrecks still smouldered at Pearl Harbor, but the Yanks were gearing up. The two laughed at the prospects of tens of thousands of U.S. servicemen and women invading their little island nation.

Home at noon, Abby asked Therese to join her for lunch before they engaged the busy afternoon schedule of endless ferries. Carol was at a table with the Met officer and an AST officer of engineers. Carol glanced inquisitively at Therese and Abby as they bounced in laughing and carrying on.

Therese thoroughly enjoyed her lunch and the company of her new friend. Truly, Therese felt a little less alone in their big scary world. Therese caught Carol looking her way once. As much as she wanted to, a wink just wouldn’t do.


	8. "Happy Christmas"

Therese invited Grace to come home with her on Christmas Eve, a Wednesday. The American almost cried with the invitation; the holiday had visited considerable homesickness on the New Yorker.

Therese and Grace caught a bus up to Eastleigh and arrived in time for tea. Joan and Anna had met Grace once before when they rendezvoused with Therese for supper once in Hamble. They were thrilled to have company for Christmas, especially an exciting American flyer.

Carolers came by around eight. They enjoyed a light supper at nine, saving everything possible for next evening’s Christmas Dinner. The women played bridge until it was time to spruce up for the midnight service at Anna’s Methodist church.

Walking to church, Grace took Anna’s arm, and Therese took her mother’s. Anna asked of Grace’s denomination, and Grace laughed, “Episcopalian, but my knees will appreciate the change of pace.”

Therese gave her room to Grace and shared Joan’s bed that night. Joan and Therese talked way too late; a scolding word from Anna finally forced them to close their eyes.

The Salvation Army band awoke them that morning. They raced to their windows to watch the smart little band march by instep and in tune. There was little to be had in stores for gifting. Anna had held on to a box of chocolates for weeks. She divided them among the women. Grace shared a box of dried fruit her parents had mailed her from the States. Anna had knitted gloves for Joan and Therese. For her mother and grandmother, Therese had spent several evenings in her room carving two Christmas tree ornaments from a block of wood. Sanded and painted with enamel, the tiny Spitfire and Hurricane fighters now hung from the tree.

Joan’s employers agreed to clear the balance of a business client’s bill by accepting several silver cigarette cases from inventory. Thinking the world of Joan, they had given her two for Christmas gifting. She wrapped them with brown paper and ribbon and presented them to Therese and Grace. Anna didn’t smoke, so Joan gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek along with a delicate kitten figurine she lucked upon in a shop that summer. Anna exclaimed, “It looks like my Moggy!”

Grace next surprised all by pulling out a small tin of coffee, also mailed from her parents. The three Brits hadn’t seen coffee in a year. They enjoyed a “sinful” breakfast of coffee, dried fruit, and chocolates. Anna insisted on tidying up by her self while Therese, Joan, and Grace sat and smoked. Grace and Therese enjoyed loading their classy new cases with some of Grace’s American cigarettes.

The sound of a car engine led Therese to the door. She opened the door and was stunned to find Carol standing by her Hornet. Therese stepped out, closing the door behind her. As Therese neared the vehicle, she saw that Carol was not alone. She had seen a photo of Rindy Aird, so she recognized Carol’s daughter peeking at her from within the car. Rindy was in the passenger seat with a blanket around her shoulders. Carol motioned Therese to the front of the car, and Therese closed to within a couple of feet. Carol looked unusually distraught. Therese had never seen Carol display vulnerability.

Barely more than a whisper, Carol spoke, “Happy Christmas, darling.”

In the same low tone, Therese replied, “Happy Christmas, Carol … something’s amiss … what’s wrong? You had ten days' leave to spend with Rindy and your mum in Broadheath.”

“Oh, Therese. It all went so disappointingly bad. I … I didn’t know where else to go.”

Therese could see that Carol was shivering. Even riding with the convertible’s top on, the drive must have been a cold one. “It’s so cold out here, Carol. Can you explain it inside within earshot of the others without … you know ...”

“Yes … I’ll gather Rindy.”

Carol opened the passenger door and took Rindy’s hand, coaxing, “Come along, munchkin; let’s go inside and warm up.”

As they walked to the door, Therese whispered, “Grace is here. I invited her for Christmas.”

“Oh … well … that was nice, Therese.”

Therese opened the door and ushered Carol and Rindy inside.

“Mummy, Gram ... Captain Aird has had a bit of a muddle. I insisted she and daughter Rindy come in out of the cold.”

Anna had entered the room and exclaimed, “Of course, of course, come in Captain… oh, and Rindy… what a precious child.”

Joan took Carol’s coat. “Rindy, do you want to keep that blanket on?”

Rindy glanced at her mother; Carol answered for her daughter, “Yes, Mrs Belivet … perhaps for a moment until she breaks the chill.”

Grace spoke, “Merry Christmas, Carol. Your daughter is beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you, Grace, and Merry Christmas to you.”

Therese put a splash of milk in two cups and poured tea for Carol and Rindy. “Rindy, my name is Therese Belivet, and I’m one of your Mummy’s pilots. Would you prefer one lump or two in your tea, dear?”

“Two please.”

“That’s my girl,” chuckled Therese. May I stir it in or would you rather?”

“I will, Miss Belivet.”

Therese handed her the saucer, cup, and a spoon, then patted her shoulder. Rindy’s dark brown hair reminded Therese of her own.

Carol had not moved. Like a doe observing her fawn, she just watched Therese lovingly interact with Rindy. Carol snapped out of the gaze when Therese offered her the saucer of tea. “Sugar?”

“Certainly, Therese … just one, please.”

Carol closed her eyes and sighed after the first milky sweet sip of the steaming brew.

Grace offered Rindy the last of her chocolates. Rindy glanced at Carol, “Mummy, is it alright?”

“Certainly, darling … this is Second Officer Grace Goodly.”

As Rindy gently took the chocolate, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Goodly … I …”

“What, sweetie?”

“I like your scarlet hair … it’s stunning.”

They all laughed.

“Thank you, Rindy; you’re most kind. I love your silky brown hair.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s like Miss Belivet’s, isn’t it?”

“Grace glanced at Therese smiling, and answered, “Why, yes it is.”

Rindy started on her chocolate.

Carol began, “Ladies, it seems I have barged in on your family time once again … I apologize.”

Joan responded, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Captain. We are delighted to have your company.”

“Thank you, Joan, you are all most kind.”

Therese sat by Carol and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What has happened, Carol?”

“Late last night, my mother’s boyfriend, Commander Camden Heard, showed up at our house. He had unexpectedly wrangled a week’s leave from the Admiralty. ‘Wrangled’, I think I picked that up from you, Grace.”

“Probably,” chuckled Grace.

“Anyway, Mum hasn’t seen him in months … you know with the U-boats and all. There are no inns near our country home, and—” she glanced at, Rindy.

Anna softly said, “We understand dear.”

“Well, I debated with myself about where to go, and finally planned to take Rindy to my lodging at Hamble. We would make the best of it. The thing is, Mum, feeling guilty, I suppose, filled a box with food for me.” Carol paused.

“Go on, Carol,” said Therese.

“Well, one of our freshly slaughtered geese is in the boot, and I have no way to cook it. As dear as that poultry is … well, would you ladies like to have it?”

Joan walked over and patted Carol on her back, “Only if you and your lovely child will join us this fine Christmas day.”

Anna chuckled, "Yes, it will certainly beat our stuffed marrow ... 'poor man's goose, indeed'."

Therese and Carol went to the car and retrieved the box and Carol’s bag. When their hands were in the boot, Carol squeezed Therese’s hand, and she whispered, “I’ve missed you so, darling.”

Therese glowed all the way back and into the house.

Joan and Anna revised the menu for the evening’s meal. They had never imagined having the luxury of goose for dinner, let alone jarred vegetables and fruits from a Midland’s farm. Carol impressed them all by making and baking an apple pie.

Rindy proclaimed, “Mummy is a fine cook … when she has the chance.”

Carol also had the makings to concoct a savoury stuffing for the goose.

Grace steered clear of the cooking and made it her mission to entertain Rindy; they fast became chums.

As Therese and Carol double-teamed the washing of the mixing bowls, Anna slipped between them and wrapped her arms around their respective waists. “Oh, this is truly marvellous … to have a child here for Christmas … Carol, it is the greatest gift I could imagine.”

As everything in the kitchen was either baking or waiting for a flame, the women played parlour games. Rindy had never played Heads and Bodies. She squealed with delight when the paper characters were unfolded after circling the room with each artist creating a head, torso, or legs. On the first round, Therese’s figure fluttered open to find a knight’s head on a buxom woman’s torso with the legs of a goat. Carol had drawn the knight and Anna the woman; Therese worked to the last second on the legs. After several rounds, only the bribe of cold milk and hot apple pie could pry Rindy from Heads and Bodies.

At dusk, Anna minded the kitchen while the rest took a brisk walk. They smiled and waved at neighbours, with some even bringing out a glass of wine or beer to share with the passers-by. A fresh snow did little to hide the bomb damage. The ruins of some houses and businesses reminded them of the proximity the village had to several strategic targets.

Before dinner, they turned on the radio to hear the daunting news that Hong Kong had fallen to the Japanese. The Asian military juggernaut had concurred much of the Pacific Rim since bombing Pearl Harbor eighteen days earlier.

As they returned thanks at dinner, they each mentioned a loved one fighting in the various corners of the Empire:

“Lord, please look after my friends, Dannie, Phil, and Richard in the Mediterranean and North African Theatres.” Therese had recently received word that Richard had for the second time lost a carrier. The _HMS Ark Royal_ was torpedoed and sunk on a return from Malta to Gibraltar. He was rescued, but Therese had no idea where he was at this moment.

“Lord, please give safe passage to my Dad’s freighter as it crosses the “Black Pit”. Graces father skippered in the U. S. Merchant Marines. He had been fighting America’s war well before they knew they were in it.

“Lord, please surround Harge with your angels and warriors as he leads his bombers into harm's way over the heart of the Third Reich. Make his Avro’s engines run true, and his gunners be sharp.” Hargess Aird’s Lincolnshire squadron was scheduled to receive the new four-engine Avro Lancaster bombers at the first of the year.

“Lord, please look after these precious women as they ferry our fierce tools of war from one airfield to the other. Have good weather and proper maintenance accompany them each and every day.” Joan squeezed Therese’s hand on one side, and Carol’s on the other.

Anna concluded, “May the good Lord be with us all in these perilous times. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies in your service. God save the King! Amen.”

“God save the King! Amen,” said all.

Grace cheerfully added, "And, God bless America!"

Carol and Therese played the piano, and the rest sang out loud and joyfully following the meal.

Carol had let her little girl stay up late because of the day and her love of being with her. Joan caught Rindy nodding while Grace was reading to her. Joan suggested, “Why don’t we start working our way through the loo and to our beds, ladies. I’ll bunk with Mum while Grace joins Therese in my room. Carol and Rindy can share Therese’s room.

Suddenly, quite awake, Rindy pled, “Please, Mummy … may I sleep with Miss Goodly.”

Carol glanced at Grace, and the American nodded with a smile. Carol calmly agreed, “Very well, Rindy… that is if Therese doesn’t mind my kicking her all night.”

Trying to contain her excitement, Therese smartly replied, “Not at all, Captain … I’ll just kick you back.”

Joan said, “Very well, then, let me say Happy Christmas and good night.”

A half-hour later, Carol and Therese snuggled under their covers.

Therese cautioned in a whisper, “We can’t make a sound.”

“I realize that, but I think we’re up to it.”

They wriggled out of their nightgowns and began to pleasure one another. Something about the suppressed sounds and the risky situation seemed to intensify their climaxes.

Moist and panting, Carol whispered, “Therese?”

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

 _Finally,_ “I love you, Carol.”

“Thank you for this day … Happy Christmas, love.”

“Sweet dreams, m’lady and Happy Christmas to you as well.”


	9. "Squeeze Right In"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 174 pilots of the ATA (men and women combined) died while ferrying aircraft during World War II. Almost all of the losses were caused by bad weather or mechanical failure.

“Good morning, Belivet.”

“Good morning, Captain Aird … Hello, Abby.”

Abby distractedly nodded to acknowledge Therese’s greeting. She was finishing passing out chits for the day. After the occupants of the dispersal room dwindled to the three of them, Abby quietly spoke, “Carol, I’ve got a long one… a Lockheed Hudson made an emergency landing at Old Sarum on 20 February. It was en route to RAF Sumburgh. It’s been repaired, but the crew is long gone.”

Carol gasped, “The 20th? That was four days ago. I wonder what its problem was? My goodness! The Shetlands?”

“Yes,” concernedly answered Abby as the chit dangled from her fingers. “I thought with both of you now rated Class 4—”

“We’d be best qualified to ferry her up to that frosty island.”

“Uh-huh.”

Taking all this in, Therese watched the exchange as one might follow a tennis match.

Carol snatched the chit and glanced at Therese, “C’mon, love, let’s deliver a bomber.”

Abby cackled, “Your weather looks fair to dicey.”

“Oh, good, darling… you are an absolute joy this morning.”

As they headed to the Met office to check charts and weather, Therese asked, “Isn’t that something on the order of eight hundred miles. What’s the range of a Hudson?”

“One way, twelve hundred miles… we won’t have to stop and refuel. Dearest, do you have your overnight bag with you?”

“Always.”

They conferred with the Met officer at length, and he thought they should be fine. He did qualify that opinion with the following, “However, you best depart as soon as possible. Carol, you know too well the North Atlantic is a cruel bitch in February.”

“She is indeed, Hemmy. Thank you.”

Abby walked in. “Carol, I sent Campbell out to Princess Elizabeth with both of your bags. They have her warmed up. You’ll be their second drop.”

“Good enough, Abby, thank you.”

Abby reached out and squeezed both of their arms, then cautioned, “Be careful, you two … Carol, I don’t see anything on your schedule for tomorrow other than routine tasks.”

“Yes, they’ll be no meetings or briefings to clear … that is … if we don’t come back today.”

“Good luck with that, boss. You know, I can’t send one of our taxis up there … it would screw with the schedule horribly.”

“I know, Abby.” Carol looked at Therese, and chimed, “We’ll just have to bum a ride, huh, Therese.”

“Yes, Ma’am. We could get lucky.”

“Carol winked.”

Abby caught it and turned away snickering.

Grace was piloting the Anson. RAF Old Sarum near Salsbury, Wiltshire was a busy airspace this morning. Therese and Carol helped Grace look for errant traffic. They made a smooth landing, bid goodbye to their American, and went in search of the Hudson.

After locating it, Carol grilled the crew chief. She wanted to know exactly what issues the aircraft had experienced and how the fixes were completed. The man was a capable chap. He assured them the source of the starboard engine’s overheating was discovered and repaired.

They checked Sarum’s Met office making sure conditions in Scotland and the North Atlantic had not deteriorated. After a thorough pre-flight, Carol, with Therese at her side was “rolling on one” then “two”.

Carol soon had them airborne. They climbed to six thousand feet and began an efficient cruise at 190 mph. Therese carefully monitored the two engines’ gauges while sharing glances between her chart and various landmarks.

For the first couple of hours, the ceiling and visibility were exceptional. Both began to decline after crossing into Scotland. The ceiling fell even more over Pentland Firth, the strait between the tip of Scotland and the Orkney Islands. Carol took them down to 3,000 feet to keep them in sight of landmarks.

Therese called the Orkneys out as they passed over them. “There’s Lyness to the west and South Ronaldsay to the east.”

“I think this ceiling is holding,” announced Carol as she glanced up at the grey shroud above them.

“Are you hungry?” asked Therese.

“Sure.”

Campbell had fetched them sandwiches that morning from the mess and filled Carol’s thermos with tea.

Therese unwrapped the paper from one of the Spam sandwiches and halved it. She passed one to Carol. Carol took a bite. The preponderance of Spam was one of the first signs of America’s entry into the war. Some criticized it, but Carol and Therese shared a taste for it, especially with mustard. Therese filled the thermos’s cup with tea and took Carol’s sandwich while her commander drank. Back and forth, they juggled tea, food, flying, and navigating as they passed over Kirkwall.

Therese excitedly beamed, “There’s Quholm coming up.”

Carol beat her to the next landmarks, “That must be War Ness and Links Ness ahead. We’ll pass between them.”

A few minutes later, Therese reported, “Carol there is Tres Ness to the east… we should soon see Start Point Lighthouse.”

“Then, 50 miles of open water … Therese that ceiling is lower … I’m descending to two-zero.”

“Oh, my … is it usually like this?”

“To be honest, dear, I’ve only flown here twice before. But, to answer your question … no … my other trips to Sumburgh were blessed with better conditions than this.”

“Therese checked her chart and the compass, then said, “That wind from three-five-zero is picking up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m crabbing quite a bit now. It’s slowing us down, too. How’re the engines … I’d like to throttle up and trim down to maintain our groundspeed.”

“The temps are fine, oil pressure is good … yes … do it.”

Carol throttled up as rain began to splatter on their windscreen. Without hesitation, Therese hit the wipers.

Visibility had declined, but Therese’s big green eyes finally spotted the small island she sought. “Carol, there is Fair Isle.”

“Of course,” confidently said Carol.

Therese shot a glance at her and laughed when Carol belied her last words with, “Phew!” and patted her heart.

Therese looked up at the ceiling, then over to Carol. “One-five?”

“I think so.” Carol started to descend again.

Therese mentioned, “It’s twenty miles across Sumburgh Roost.”

“No worries, love, we’ll squeeze right in. We should see the Ness of Burgi fort in a few minutes; the airfield is soon after.”

“There it is, ‘squeeze in” is right; look at that cover.”

Carol frowned at the sight of the distant fog. She was not going to mess around. Carol knew the field, and she started her approach and descent accordingly.

Therese counted off; "Flight level 5, 4 … flaps down … 3 … throttle down … 2, 1 … cut throttle."

Carol kicked the rudder to straighten out her wind-crabbing aircraft a few feet from the runway. She slipped the twin-engine American made bomber in with nary a bounce or wobble.

They taxied to the hangers and turned the Hudson over to the ground crews. An ops officer came out and signed their chit. “Giles Clovender, ladies, thank you for bringing our wayward bird home. Glad you nipped in ahead of this front.”

“It's nice to meet you, Clovender, I'm Carol Aird.”

The rain had turned to big sloppy snowflakes.

The women couldn’t help but notice the affection the men were showing for the aircraft. Carol asked Giles, “Is this Hudson special?”

He grinned and replied, “Oh, yes, Ma’am. While flying it, different crews have sunk two U-boats, and one of the turret gunners shot down a Heinkel that was attacking one of the island’s lighthouses.

Carol and Therese chuckled at the thought of the rather mundane aircraft being such a little bear.

Giles walked them back to the operations building and began to check on return transportation options. The Met office called and reported that ceiling and visual were below minimums, but they were optimistic about flying conditions in the morning. “Sorry, Captain, but there is some good news; I have two Spitfire Mk IIs here that are to be retired from combat service. They want them back at White Waltham for training. But first, your lot at Hamble is to give them a good once over. I can have the crews get them ready for the two of you to fly back in the morning.

“Carol looked out at the swirling mist and snow and proclaimed, “That will be lovely, Clovender. Where might we spend the night?”

“Hmm, there’s nothing but a bunk or two at the field, pretty stark and smelly. Half a mo, it’s only a quarter to three. You’ve got time on your hands. I’ve got the duty overnight. Take my Austin… drive up to Lerwick. It’s a bit over a half-hour away, but it will be worth the drive. There is proper lodging there… a couple of choices, but the hotel has a splendid restaurant.”

Carol asked, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely … being stuck out here … on this point … the field has four cars. This one is assigned to me, and the RAF provides petrol. The keys are in it.”

Carol still hesitated.

“Captain, please! It’s the least we can do for your returning our good luck charm.”

“Fine. You ready, Therese?”

“Yes, Ma’am, but I’m driving. You’ve been at it for five hours.”

“No argument here, #2.”

Carol asked Giles, “Weather permitting, what time can we depart in the morning?”

“Best make it ten.”

“Very well. By the way, call me Carol, Giles.”

“I will, Carol, and this fetching creature, might be?”

“Therese extended her hand and smiled, “Therese … Therese Belivet.”

“Smashing, Therese … nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Giles. I will take good care of your car.”

“I’ve not a worry in the world.” He paused to glance in Therese’s eyes and sighed.

The women laughed and stepped out to the Austin.

After tossing their bags in the back seat, they were soon on their way with the most simple of directions and the name of the hotel.

Carol fell fast asleep. Therese was glad the precipitation had let up a bit. She was actually enjoying the adventure, and the thought of a night in bed with Carol had her burning. They hadn’t made love in over a month.

“Carol, wake up, my love. We’re here.”

“Oh… what? You shouldn’t have let me sleep the whole way.”

“Yes, I should’ve. You needed it. I want you well rested for tonight.”

Carol smirked and squeezed Therese’s thigh.

They checked in. Carol asked for two rooms, but the desk clerk said, “the Navy is heavy in town.” All he could offer was one room with two small beds.

“Such a shame … oh well, it will have to do.”

A boy carried their bags up for them, and Therese tipped him generously.

“Thank you, ma’am!”

“Certainly, and what is your name?”

“Phillip, ma’am.”

“Well, Phillip, what is on for tonight in the kitchen?”

“Oh … me mum’s the cook, and she has a right proper spread on for tonight.”

“Does she now?”

“Yes, ma’am. We went to the boats this morning and now have plaice, cod, and a bass cooking. My sister, Ruth, baked rolls today… yes, m’ladies, hot and fresh, they’ll be. And, oh, the best… a bloke dropped off new potatoes today. They’ll be boiled and buttery shortly.”

“With jackets on?”

“Of course, ma’am … it’s the only way … ain’t it?

“It is, Phillip.”

Carol asked, “Phillip, what’s the best time to come down to partake of this feast?”

“Well, you best beat the Navy, ma’am.”

“Oh … so early is best?”

“Yes, ma’am … between six and seven, I’d say.”

Phillip? That accent of yours ... you’re not Scottish. No, me family’s from Kirton.”

“I knew it ... Lincolnshire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll see you soon … I hope?”

“Of course, ma’am … I’ll be serving and clearing tables.”

Phillip left their key on the dresser and exited.

After they pushed the two beds together, Therese closed the drapes and went straight for her love. She embraced her and took Carol’s lips in her own for a succulent kiss. Carol loosened Therese’s trousers and thrust her hand down to Therese’s crotch.

Therese gasped.

In a sultry voice, Carol observed, “My, my… you are ready.” She gently pushed Therese back and down on the bed, pulled the young officer’s trousers and panties down to her knees then went down on her.

Therese raced through the buttons of her own jacket then blouse and pulled them open. Having moved onto the bed with Therese, Carol, on her knees with her bottom beautifully pooched up, shot her hands up under Therese’s brassiere. All of this while continuing her appetizer, Therese’s hot wet flesh. Therese bit the base of her own thumb to muffle the scream caused by her primordial orgasm.

Carol grinned down on her young lover like a panting leopard. Therese rolled Carol and took the high ground, sitting on top; she went to work on Carol’s uniform. She soon had her stripped naked. Therese’s alabaster goddess was now her playground. She shifted oral attention between Carol’s breasts, neck, ears, and mouth until Carol begged, “Fuck me, Therese … goddam it, please fuck me.”

Therese slipped her fingers into Carol and squeezed them to meet her thumb. She rapidly thrust her hand in and out until Carol was ready to receive her entire little hand. Therese continued the vaginal massage until she could make a fist. She rotated this loving knob while thrusting and pulling. Carol gasped for air, but Therese knew Carol did not want her to let up. No, not until she came so hard… so hard as to never want another lover. Yes, Therese wanted to be Carol’s last, forever and ever, lover.

Around six, they washed tops and tails in the bathroom and carefully donned their uniforms. The two patiently made sure hair and makeup were top-shelf then they stood and checked each other out.

“Nice, Therese.”

“Very nice, Carol.”

Carol reached for Therese’s left hand. She slipped a petite gold band on her finger.

Therese gave a questioning look.

Carol explained, “That was my grandmother’s. Wear it tonight to keep the naval officers at bay.”

Therese admired it a moment then gifted her Carol with that dimpled smile.

“Shall we make a night of it, Second Officer Belivet?”

“Let’s, Flight Captain Aird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/EHk0pwj)  
> A Lockheed Hudson bomber
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/bU3JaBD)  
> The cockpit of a Lockheed Hudson


	10. "No"

Hundreds of ferries filled the spring and summer of 1942 for the women of Hamble. Therese and Carol stole precious few moments together: a rush to the New Forrest’s cottage, a carefully planned rendezvous at an Inn on the Isle of Wight, and a quick dalliance, standing and clothed, at the back of a vacant hangar. They shed tears the day Grace left them to return to the States with a transfer to the fledgeling WASPs.

On a beautiful June morning, Carol had ordered a full turnout of her pool for a briefing. Unusual, Abby had them assemble on the field on this Tuesday afternoon.

Carol was nowhere to be seen. Therese heard the engine of an unrecognizable tone approach from the west. A Spitfire streaked in and set down then taxied to them before shutting down. In awe, Therese murmured, “So that’s it! My, my.”

Out climbed Carol. She stood on the wing and waived to them. “Pilots of Hamble, I introduce to you the Spitfire Mk IXC. This is our answer to the Focke Wulf FW-190 that has been running circles around our men in their Mk V Spits. What looks different about it?”

Abby blurted, “It has a four-bladed propeller!"

The pilots laughed.

“No, no … our mum is quite right. It has a four-bladed propeller. What else?”

Therese hollered, “The nose is much longer.”

“Hmm … oh, yes,” commented some in the pool.”

“That’s correct, Belivet! This beauty has a longer nose to accommodate the new Merlin 61 engine producing sixteen-hundred horsepower. That’s a couple of hundred more than the Mk V, but more importantly, behind the engine is a two-stage, two-speed supercharger and intercooler. You may hear the supercharger referred to as a blower. The four-bladed propeller will enable the Mk IX to utilize this increased power. In short, the Spitfire now has a top speed of over four hundred miles per hour and can climb at a rate of 4,000 feet per minute.”

Gasps and exclamations were heard.

“Ladies, these are rolling out en masse from Supermarine and Castle Bromwich. We must ferry them quickly and efficiently to our fighter wings so that they can resume their offensive fighter sweeps over France. I want you to come forward and look it over… everyone take a turn in the cockpit and note the differences. The two RAF officers standing behind you are Flight Lieutenants Phil and Dannie McElroy.”

Stunned, Therese turned to see her chums standing by the admin building smiling at her.

“These Battle of Britain brothers are aces several times over… they have just returned from service in North Africa with the Desert Air Force. They were brought home to wring out the Mk IX before its introduction. Save your questions from the walk around; they will brief you in more detail on the idiosyncrasies of the Mk IX and stand for a Q and A.”

It took everything in her being to keep Therese from racing to hug her old chums.

Abby had cloistered away the two dashing Messerschmitt killers to avoid any hoopla. They did not mention knowing Therese to her.

Therese did manage a subtle “later ... pints” to them before she took her turn in the Mk IX cockpit.

Later, at Hamble’s Crook, Therese sat laughing to tears with Dannie and Phil. They regaled each other with the latest exploits afield and reminiscences of times spent flying as “kids” at Eastleigh. The men had aged years in one and a half, but their cool demeanours, desert tans, and squinting eyes had Therese’s pool mates staring in envy. Carol came in but kept a distance; she did not want to disturb her filly, enjoying the colts of her youth.

Therese did glance at Carol and wave once. Carol returned the gesture with what Therese knew was a loving smile. Only a few moments later, Therese caught the entry of a messenger from Hamble. The messenger went straight to Carol and handed her a note. Carol glanced at it and immediately followed the messenger out.

Partly out of concern for Carol and partly out of a sense of fair play with her sister pilots Therese turned Dannie and Phil over to the vixen.

Abby synched with her at the door. After exiting, Therese asked, “Do you know what’s up?”

“Haven’t a clue, Luv, but we’ll jolly well find out.”

At the field, they found Carol on the phone in her office. Carol waved them off with a stony visage. Carol hung up a few minutes later. She called her lover and friend into her office. There was one clerk out front, so Carol asked Therese to close the door.

“That was from our Senior Commander. She had called earlier and asked the clerk to find me and have me call her back.” Therese could see that Carol was fighting back the tears. “Harge’s bomber was shot up over Brest last night. It caught fire. Despite being badly burned and the loss of two crew members, he managed to bring the bird home. He is in hospital at Boston, but they are transferring him tomorrow to Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead, Sussex; there is a Dr Mcindoe that works miracles with burns.”

Therese and Abby went to either side of Carol and knelt by her with hands on her shoulders.

“The Commander told me I was on leave until further notification. I’ll depart tomorrow to meet Harge in Sussex.”

“Oh, my God, Carol, I’m so sorry,” said Abby.

Therese could not speak. She just gazed at Carol squeezing her shoulder and arm as if it would hold her at Hamble.

Abby, always the administrator, said, “We’ll get you an air taxi over there tomorrow… then I’ll arrange for someone at that field to drive you to East Grinstead.”

Carol just kept looking at her left hand while numbly spinning her wedding band, “Thank you, Abby. Will you two look after the car in my absence… and if you can clear my quarters and store my belongings for me... your temporary Flight Captain will need to occupy that space by the day after tomorrow.”

Abby asked, “What … who?”

Carol numbly answered, “Evidently, Genevieve Cranell is back from Canada and was about to be assigned to White Waltham. Now, she is coming here to serve as your Flight Captain.”

Carol turned to look at Therese. From Carol’s crushed expression, Therese immediately knew who this Cranell was.

Abby snapped, “What the hell! No … oh, my god … no. Not that French Canadian bitch!”

“Yes, Abby. It will be fine, dear. You’ll all be fine. I just hate leaving you to deal with all these Mk IX Spits.”

Therese assured, “That’s not your concern, Carol. Do not worry about us. We’ll take care of them. Go to your husband … help him.”


	11. Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn! This chapter should be an easy read. That is my highest readability score ever. AND, no passive sentences. 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/ZhhGE9Z)  
> 

Genevieve “Vivy” Cranell took the podium of the briefing room. Her upswept blonde hair and immaculate makeup set the stage for what was an impressive voice. “Thank you, Officer Gerhard … excellent status report.” She paused and glanced about the room until her bright, intense blue eyes locked on Therese’s. “Officer Belivet, may I be the first to congratulate you on your recent training performance at the ATA Conversion School. Ladies, Belivet now holds Class 2 Plus and 4 Plus ratings.” She clapped for Therese and the others hesitantly joined in.

Therese blushed with embarrassment; Carol would never have singled one out in front of the entire pool. Carol always praised and castigated in private. Everyone knew what everyone had done, good or bad. Such acts as this fed jealousy. Carol was always about the team.

“Ladies, I understand that the ATA is in the first stages of developing a Class 5 rating… four-engine bombers. However, they seem to think we women are too frail for such juggernauts. Well, I have flown and landed the American Flying Fortress, and I can assure you we are capable. Would you pick up their gauntlet, Belivet?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“I have no doubt, my dear.”

_My dear? Uhh!_

With a sudden shift in countenance, Vivy hissed, “Herr Goering’s Luftwaffe has started sending his latest toy to make mischief at our ports and aircraft factories. The first of these Fw 190 A-3/U3 _Jabo_ or _Jagdbomber_ fighter-bombers struck a facility in Kent last week. They fly in below radar detection … they are very fast. They attack in singles and flights. If you encounter any of these, or for that matter, any German aircraft while ferrying, turn your aircraft away from them and flee at full throttle. I know the rules forbid flying that fast, but I will take full responsibility. Do it!”

Pilots around Therese nervously chattered about the lightning raids. Therese rolled her eyes.

Later as Vivy concluded her remarks, she closed with, “Remember Flight Captain Aird and her husband Wing Leader Hargess Aird in your prayers, ladies.”

After dismissal, Therese stomped from the administrative building with chits in hand. She had to get airborne. She had to take her anger and heavy heart to the sky.

Having departed for Conversion School the same day Carol left for Sussex, the briefing was Therese’s first encounter with Vivy. Therese wanted to hate her. Abby hates her. Carol was in love with her at one time, and probably always would be. And, why did she have to have blonde hair and blue eyes?

“Therese!” called Abby as the Austin pulled alongside Therese.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You’re the only pilot going to Lee-on-Solent. Vivy wants Campbell for something or another. I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks, Abby.”

Therese hopped in the little olive-drab sedan, and they headed south.

“Can you believe her, Abby … blowing up my skirt about two meagre Plus upgrades?”

“Well… for one, they are not meager, sweetheart, and two, she just has a different leadership style than Carol’s. We’ll just have to get used to it.”

“So, you’re on her side now?”

“There is no side, Therese. My goodness, you miss Carol, don’t you.”

“Perhaps I should walk … or hitch a ride.”

“Don’t be a stoop.”

Therese crossed her arms.

Abby laughed at her pose then remarked, “Well, it seems like Carol has two little girls to deal with now.”

Therese glanced at her questioningly. Abby’s eyes darted down at the tightly crossed arms. Therese looked down at them then huffed and relaxed her arms, hands in lap.

“I forgot, where are you taking this Seafire Mk I?”

“Heron.”

Still trying to rescue her troubled friend, Abby chimed, “Oh, a lovely hop to Somerset … and such a fine day!”

“Oh, shut up, Abby.”

“Okay, dearie, but you need to calm down or you’re likely to have a crash.”

“You make it sound like ‘having a biscuit’ or ‘a cuppa’ … really, Abby.”

They drove on. It was just a few miles to the Naval Air Station. They would soon be there. Abby persisted, “Then two Mk IX Spits after that?”

“Correct.”

“Those will be your first Mk IX flights as well, won’t they?”

“No, I took a spin in one at the school last week. They are impressive.”

“Good … that eases my mind.”

They saluted the guard, a Royal Marine, who knew both of them on sight and he raised the gate. They sped on to the hangar.

“There’s your shiny, white Seafire, Luv. Have you flown one of those before?”

“No, but they are just Spitfire Mk VBs with a tail-hook. How hard can it be?”

Abby stopped and switched the engine off. She turned in her seat and grasped Therese’s forearm.

“What?”

“Look, Therese. As miserable as you think you are without Carol, think about how she is faring nursing a man she loves only in that he is her daughter’s father … a badly burned man. Toughen up, sister! This will all pass.”

Therese relented and hugged Abby. She didn’t care if anyone saw it or not. “That’s just women” a passing mechanic or naval aviator might say.

“Be careful … chin up.”

“Thank you, Abby. I’ll see you in a few.”

Therese waived goodbye to Abby then made her way to the Seafire. A petty officer came over and examined her chit.

“Chief, I’ve flown a lot of Spits, but never a Seafire. What’s the skinny?” She already had pulled her Ferry Pilot Notes from her bag. The two-ringed little binder of 4X6 inch notecards was a Godsend, one page per aircraft type with settings, speeds, and alerts on front and back.

The old NCO grinned. His leathery wrinkles lightened Therese’s heart. He growled, “Now there’s a smart girl, Ma’am. So many think they know it all and get in a fix. That’s refreshing. Follow me around her, and I’ll show you the Seafire’s tricks.”

Therese glanced back over her shoulder, but Abby was long gone. _Thank you!_

The taxying and take off combined with the landing and taxi took longer than the twenty minutes of airtime to HMS Heron. After an hour’s wait, Therese caught an air taxi back to Supermarine. She pre-flighted the first of her two Mk IXs for the day.

Therese was soon on her way to Biggin Hill. She grinned as she felt the more powerful engine's torque on take-off and added rudder to compensate. Soon she was at 5,000 feet cruising at 320 mph.

Biggin Hill was quiet for a change. She made a quick in and out of it there. Luckily catching Hamble’s Anson for a ride to Castle Bromwich, she enjoyed the company of two of her Hamble sisters. Both of them had already ferried Spits from Castle Bromwich that morning. Her French friends Simone and Denise spoke broken English, but Therese had picked up a lot of French as a teen during her wild summer in Marseilles. The young French women always seemed to enjoy Therese because of the ease of conversation and Therese’s open-mindedness.

The distance to Castle Bromwich was 150 miles. They were hungry after landing, so they ate lunch together. All three of their Spitfires were destined for Biggin Hill, so they flew back to Kent in formation. Excitingly, these three planes were “true” Mk IX Spitfires; to this point, they had been delivering Mk IXs converted from Mk Vs. There were several differences, and Therese liked all of them.

Upon landing, Simone proclaimed, “Ils volent simplement mieux.”

Therese agreed, “Comme un rêve!”

The day got long as they waited for an air taxi. They played Belote; another skill Therese gained in Marseilles. The quite Denise was an ace at the game and took the most tricks in the French card game.

They got back to Hamble around six. They checked in and had supper at the mess then raced over to Hamble’s Crook to catch up with their pool. Upon entering, Abby was in rare form sitting on the piano singing solo while Met officer Hemmings played. She was vamping out Lili Marlene. The crowd was hers.

Therese sank a bit when Vivy entered the “Crook”. Vivy caught the end of Abby’s performance and obviously felt the group might enjoy a French song. She dashed to Therese’s table and grabbed the hands of Simone and Denise. Therese had to concede that the trio did a great job. Therese loved seeing the shy Denise emerge from her shell.

Therese soared when Dannie and Phil came in. They had spent the day at Supermarine and decided to take a chance on catching Therese. Their hunch paid off. After a good catching up and two glasses of wine, Therese steered them to Simone and Denise. She felt the pairings would be good for all of them. The four were soon dancing.

Therese’s admiration of her matchmaking was interrupted when she heard, “May I join you, Therese?”

Therese glanced to find Vivy standing next to her with a glass of wine in each hand. “Certainly, Captain.”

“Here, I see you’re drinking wine … so am I. I took the liberty of getting another for you. I called you Therese, do you mind, darling?”

“I don’t mind, Captain.”

“Call me, Vivy, please, darling … we’re off duty.”

“Well, okay … thanks for the drink … Vivy. I really shouldn’t; two is my usual limit on working nights.”

“Come, come, chérie … aren’t they all working nights nowadays.”

Therese sipped her wine. Her nose numbed. She listened to the beautiful woman across from her but said little in return, never more than a “yes” or “no” or other single-word replies. Therese began to see how this enchantress swept Carol off her feet or was it Carol that went after her? Vivy was alluring. She seemed to get by with hand touches and arm taps that Carol or Therese would never have attempted in public.

Therese hadn’t noticed until this moment that her friends were settled in at another table. She glanced back at Vivy. Vivy’s eyes were burning into Therese’s. Therese stared back. She felt warm. Just the wine she thought … too much wine.

Vivy chuckled, “Feeling alright, mon amie?”

“Uh, yes. Just a bit … well, it’s been a long day.”

“Yes, of course, my little one. May I walk you to your quarters … I feel I must see you safely in.”

“That’s okay, Captain Cranell … I got her,” said Abby as she scooped up Therese and took her arm in arm to the door. Therese tried to glance back at Vivy, but Abby gently nudged her chin forward with her brow. “Eyes front, Second Officer Belivet, we wouldn’t want you to trip. If you break a leg, we could lose the war, my little super pilot.”

Dannie, Phil, Simone, and Denise followed them out. Phil called to Abby, “Officer Gerhard! We have a car. Come on, pile in … we’ll get everybody home.”

Dannie opened the car door and helped Abby guide Therese into the backseat next to Denise. Abby entered the American Packard and asked, “Where the hell did you boys get—”

“Don’t ask,” laughed Phil.

Simone, sandwiched between the two men, noted in her thick accent, “Well, at least the steering wheel is on the correct side … you English … uh.”

The boys dropped Simone and Denise off at Sydney Cottages with dates set for the upcoming Saturday night. The aces returned to the car and smiled happily at one another and Abby.

Abby chuckled, “I love it. Those two deserve you blokes. How long do you think you’ll be around?”

“You never know, do ya, Luv?”

“How do you manage to stay together? I’ve never seen such.”

“Ah, we were featured in a magazine article in the summer of 40. The brass loved the PR. I guess some high-up said, “Live or die, we are not splitting up the McElroy brothers.”

“That’s grand.”

After a quiet moment, Phil softly spoke, “Ma’am?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Is she asleep?”

“Seems to be, luv.”

Therese, feigning sleep, listened intently.

“Thanks for being there for Therese tonight. If you had not interceded, we would have. It was so much better, the way you handled it.”

“Think nothing of it gentlemen, I … oh, wait … you know?”

“Yes, we’ve known for years. What do you think kept us from killing each other to win her over?”

“Goodness, gracious! What about that other fellow she speaks of that ran with you lot?”

“Richard?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he never got it … a bit dim on such things.”

“Where is he? Do you know? Can you say?”

“Sure, we told Therese tonight as well. He had two days in Eastleigh last month when we were there as well. The Navy has switched him to heavies, believe it or not. He is learning to fly the American Liberator. They hope to close the Black Hole in the mid-Atlantic with those long-ranging boxcars.”

“Well, well. Why didn’t he reach out to Therese when he was that close by?”

“He met a girl at his temporary posting. They seem to have hit it off. She’s from London.”

“And, Therese learned all this tonight?”

“She did, indeed.”

“Whew! Big night.”

“Yes, quite.”

Dannie sheepishly asked, “Uh, Abby, I take it you’re … uh?”

“Yes … I am, Dannie.”

“My goodness. A relative covey.”

Abby cackled, as Phil lightly smacked the back of Dannie’s head.

“Not a word, or they’ll burn us all at the stake.”

Phil replied, “Mums the word.”

Abby walked Therese to her room in the yacht club, helped her change, and tucked her in.

Therese murmured, “Abby, I don’t get it. How did I get so pissed on three glasses of wine?”

“Sweetheart, you lost count. I didn’t … it was four. You had one while I was singing.”

“Oh, I forgot that one.”

“Yes, baby girl, you did.”

“Well, fuck. Shame on me.”

“Almost, dear.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing … I tell you what. I’ve got another Seafire at Supermarine bound for Heron, but it won’t be ready until ten. You sleep in. That’s an order. Perhaps, I better write you a note so that you won’t wake up in a panic.”

“That would be wonderful … yes, a note, Abby … please … cause I—”

“I know, I know … you might forget.”

“Yes.” Therese closed her eyes and began to breathe slowly and heavily.

Abby stared down at her best friend’s girl. She whispered to herself, “Damn, you are a cutie, Therese Belivet.”

Abby turned off her light and closed the door.

Therese smiled in the darkness listening as Abby’s steps faded then drunkenly giggled, “Abby thinks I’m a cutie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/aQ7CcIw)  
> Spitfire Mk IX
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/PP5WZCb)  
> The cockpit of Spitfire Mk IX


	12. "The Dreamy One"

Southern England was socked in with rain and fog on Saturday, August 1, 1942, and the forecast was for similar conditions through Monday. Vivy and Abby cut their pilots loose for the weekend. Therese caught the train to Southampton and then Eastleigh. Her mother and grandmother were surprised and delighted to see her.

Anna chimed, “I was about to make tea, but you probably had a cup on your way, didn’t you, Luv?”

“No, Gram … I never had the chance. Tea would be lovely.”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Anna, and she stepped briskly for the kitchen.

Joan asked in a pensive tone, “Therese, have you heard from Carol… any news on how her poor husband is getting along?”

“No … rather strange, that … I’ve not received a letter or phone call in over a week. The last correspondence was quite sad … he suffers badly from both physical pain and mental anguish.”

Joan walked to her purse and pulled an envelope. She turned to Therese, and in little more than a whisper, she said, “On Thursday, a Miss Rebecca Smithers dropped by my office. She left this correspondence with me and instructions to give it to you… and added that you should open it alone and at a time when you had the opportunity for contemplation.” Joan passed the envelope to her daughter. “Take it up to your room, darling… I’ll go have your Gram wait a bit on the tea.”

Therese hurried to her room, closed the door, and perched on her bed. She stared at the object in her hands. She recognized Carol’s hand on its face. “Therese,” she whispered. She fought the queasiness in her tummy. Perhaps a minute passed before she slipped her thumbnail along its seam. Therese removed the two-page handwritten letter. She glanced up at the wall. Another minute passed before she lowered her eyes back to the letter and began to read.

 _25-7-42_

_Dearest,_

_Given the censors, Beck was most kind in transporting this letter to the safekeeping of your sweet “Mum”. She was headed to the cottage, and I asked her to serve as our messenger. I hope it has not awaited your opening inordinately; I trusted to luck you might catch a timely pass home._

_I write from the darkest of places, darling. Wing Commander Hargess Aird is a crushed man, in mind and body. I could not disclose the following in my prior letters. A flak shell exploded below and forward of his Lancaster’s cockpit killing Harge’s bomb aimer and wounding his navigator. They were on return and were about to clear the continent. Fate is wicked at times; his navigator came by for a visit and confided that, ironically, Jerry’s’ Ack-Ack is quite thin in that area. A cabin fire erupted, but Harge stalwartly remained at the controls while his crewmates extinguished the blaze around him. He stayed on-stick until they landed three-quarters of an hour later. His men gave the fire their all, but Harge was most damaged. The skin was burned away from the right side of his face, scalp, and right leg. Lesser but severe burns cover his right torso and arm. His right eye was tortured as well; they have removed it._

_The doctor and staff here are exceptional. They optimistically project the best for Harge, yet he, understandably so, lives under a cloud. I try my best to be the chipper wife. I squash my tears and pepper his unburned cheek and forehead with kisses, yet thrice, in low moments, he has asked me to abandon him. He says, ‘We were done anyway, and he would not have me dedicate my life to a grotesque monster out of pity.’ But I stay._

_I miss you so very much, my sweet, sweet love. You, the woman of my dreams, are always here beside me as I sit for hours waiting for the relatively short times I can spend with him. One nurse is much kinder, or bolder, than the rest and lets me stay with him for twice the allotted time. The mind runs afield in those in-between times or when he slumbers under sedation. There is much time to think, think of you, think of us, and think of Rindy. We are keeping the worst of her father’s state from her._

_I pen the balance of this letter with the greatest heartbreak, my darling. I see no good end to all this for me. I must stand loyal to Rindy’s father. We all have sacrifices to make in this cursed war. Mine will be meagre compared to many. Despite my love for you, I cannot and will not drag you down this road with me. Life is too precarious and too short. I cannot ask you to be on the ready for a stolen moment or a planned encounter in which we play our roles in a theatre of deception. In any life we pondered, even the dreamy one, there was a bit of that. A 'bit' of it I could handle, but not this dreary course. Not a life for you, my precious sprite._

_‘The dreamy one’ is a place I can drift off to in my mind and smile for a moment. I know it frequents your thoughts, as well. Post-war, shuttling tourists about the West Indies, we return each evening to find one of us already on the beach with some fruity concoction in hand or your beloved glass of wine. Our cute little, palm treed cabin patiently waits for us to enwrap one another in long nights of passion. We might straighten up a bit when Rindy summers with us. If that were all I can have of her, I would take it. Yes, dearest, a moment in that ideal would be worth a lifetime._

_But until then, there must be no contact between us. I have much to do, and you, my darling, even more. Please believe that I would do anything to see you happy, and so I do the only thing I can – I release you._

_Love,_

_Carol_

Therese changed to the hiking clothes she wore on their New Forrest date. She darted down the stairs and into the mist. It was thick; the moisture felt like a feathery cloth on her face. She made it to the village park and sat on a bench. Of course, no one else was at the park in this soup.

Therese began to cry. She sobbed. She checked her pockets for a hanky. “Damn, a sleeve will have to do!”

A bobby came along in his rain gear. “Alrighty there, Luv?”

She took another swipe at her coat sleeve and tried her best to nod him off with a smile.

He comforted, “Just a good cry? Well, sometimes that’s what the doctor ordered.”

“Yes, I guess so, Constable Pace.”

A little pug trotted between them. The cop said, “Ah, Mrs Lot’s hound has escaped again.” He had recognized Therese at this point, “Will ya be okay, Miss Belivet?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, then, I must gather up our wayward Sidney and fetch him home.”

“Of course, give Mrs Lott my best.”

“I will … and do be careful up in these busy skies, Luv.”

“Always … Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Therese sat and stared into the mist. The water on the bench had soaked through the seat of her trousers. She was cold. Her tears mingled with the raindrops on her face.


	13. Vivy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/oxu9iGr)  
>  The de Havilland Mosquito, the "Wooden Wonder". In the bomber version (pictured), a bomb aimer would man the bombsight behind the plexiglass nose; he also multitasked as radio operator, navigator, and flight engineer.
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/ReXDcXG)  
> The cockpit of a Mosquito

At 15:05 hours, on Wednesday, September 2, 1942, Therese Belivet entered Hamble’s administrative office to check-in after completing her last of three ferries for the day. Abby stepped up beside Therese and put her arm around the tired pilot’s shoulders. Therese affectionately looked into Abby’s eyes. She did not like what she saw. “Oh, no, sister! Not another one today… I can tell by the look on your face.”

“It’s urgent, Therese … a request from Bomber Command.”

“Is there someone else available that hasn’t already flown three today?”

“Not that can fly a fast-twin.”

Intrigued, Therese asked, “A Mossie?”

“Yes, a pair actually, at de Havilland.”

“Two … who’ll fly the other?”

“I will,” beamed Vivy as she emerged from her office with overnight bag and flight suit in hand.

“Oh, uh …”

“Come along, mon amie, I have our chits in my bag.” Vivy exited to the field.

Therese felt Abby squeeze her shoulder tightly. She glanced at Abby. Abby whispered, “I’m sorry, Luv … you’ll be fine. She’s an excellent pilot… and instrument rated.”

“But, Abby, this late in the day, it will be an overnighter.”

Abby moved in close to Therese’s ear. “If she gets fresh, tell her to fuck off.”

Therese sighed, nodded, and turned to follow her commander.

Abby caused her to pause, “Oh, here comes Campbell. She has a thermos of tea and some biscuits for you two.”

They climbed into Winston. Denise already had the props spinning. They were soon winging their way to the de Havilland works at Hatfield. The Hertfordshire facility had a fine aerodrome.

Therese asked Vivy, “Captain, where are we taking them?”

“RAF Swanton Morley.”

“Norfolk? I’ve never been to that bomber base.”

“Oh, you are in for a treat, Therese. It is quite the operation. These Mossies are for 105 Squadron. Two more RAF squadrons fly Bostons. There is a new American squadron flying Bostons as well, but they call them the A-20 Havoc.”

“Wow!” She sniggered, “The American names of their aircraft that we both use always have such fierce names… I like that.” She visualized the course of there pending ferry. “The ferry will be short, won’t it?”

“Yes, darling … 90 miles or so.”

Therese was checking her Blue Book on the de Haviland Mosquito. _Maximum speed 415 mph! ATA max 300 mph._ “Vivy, we’ll only be in the air for twenty minutes.”

Thrilled at hearing Therese address her so, Vivy grinned, “I know, mon amie, but what a fabulous twenty minutes it will be!”

Denise turned and scowled, “I’m jealous, and here I sit at the controls of this old banger.”

Therese and Vivy laughed at their taxi driver’s frustration. Therese couldn’t help but return Vivy’s smile.

“You flew a Mosquito at your last training, correct Therese?”

“I did. The instructor flew while I observed. Next, he landed, then I took it up with him observing me—”

“And then the solo!”

“Yes, it was a bit scary … but grand … so much power!”

“Tea, darling?” asked Vivy with the upside-down thermos lid in hand.

“Yes, please … but, you—”

“No worries, Miss Belivet.” Vivy had an interesting metallic disk in her hand, somewhat like an oversize snuff tin. She popped the top off and pulled up on the outer of the concentric rings attached to the disk’s base. A clever little cup telescoped up before Therese’s eyes.”

Therese chuckled, “That is cute, Vivy.”

“Oui, et aussi fonctionnel. Biscuit, amour?”

“Merci.”

Therese finished her tea and then poured another. She took it and two biscuits to Denise. Therese stayed close in case a bit of turbulence or the like called for Denise to employ both hands.

After landing at de Haviland, Denise taxied them right up to the hangars. Vivy looking out the window, chimed, “There are our numbers.”

They bid Denise goodbye and made their way to the aircraft. After signing off, Therese and Vivy began to preflight their respective aircraft. Therese admired the sleek fuselage. She chuckled thinking of all the of the de Havilland Mosquito’s nicknames: Mossie, Wooden Wonder, and others, more colourful. Some brilliant Brit had developed an unbelievably strong resin. It enabled de Havilland to manufacture plywood strong enough to serve as the wings and fuselage for the Mosquito. Quite fortuitous, the wooden materials enabled a whole different set of skilled labourers to be employed in the war effort; piano and furniture manufacturers became Mosquito makers. With its lightweight airframe and twin Rolls-Royce Merlin engines, they created a bomber that was the fastest operational aircraft in the world. There was a fighter-bomber version with guns, but today’s ferries were the pure bomber version. These Mosquitos’ only defensive armament was their speed. Even the fearsome FW-190 could only catch them if it could pounce on a Mosquito from above with speed gained from a steep dive. Few Mosquitos had been lost to enemy fighters; antiaircraft was the greater threat.

It was almost seventeen hundred by the time they had warmed up and started their taxies. They had checked, and sundown was at 19:44 at Swanton Morley. There was plenty of daylight left, but not enough to catch a lift back to Hamble, thus the overnight bags. They had carefully reviewed the chart at the flight station reflecting the locations of the numerous barrage balloons surrounding the important facility. Therese had the balloons at Hamble, and her other frequents memorized. The cables of the balloons were killers if one was not careful.

The runway was wide enough for them to take off together, side by side. After Therese felt the landing gear doors close, she took her usual glance in the rearview mirror. Disconcertingly, two specks were closing on de Havilland from far behind her and Vivy. As was the ATA’s lot, they never had radio gear, so Therese accelerated a bit and pulled beside Vivy. Vivy glanced at her. Therese thumbed back over her shoulder. Vivy nodded and checked her rearview mirror. Vivy immediately indicated they should bank north. Therese understood. She followed suit. In the turn, they could clearly look back at the de Havilland works and aerodrome. Antiaircraft fire, indicated by tracers, was spewing at the now identifiable FW-190 fighter-bombers. Therese saw them release their bombs and veer towards her and Vivy. As the bombs exploded in the facility, she glanced at Vivy. Vivy gave her a “follow-me” signal and another for “full-throttle”. They began to accelerate to the north then took a deep turn west. The Fw-190s had what Therese feared was a great advantage at the moment, speed; they had made their run at high throttle. Vivy’s move was their only chance. The FW-190s could not turn inside them at their great speed, so now, Therese and Vivy were accelerating rapidly due west. If the enemy pilots followed, they risked barrage balloons, more Ack Ack, and running out of the precious fuel needed for their return to France. Therese’s heart raced for anxious seconds as the Germans completed their turn and closed on the Mossies. Fortunately, they were a half-mile behind her and Vivy, and the FW-190s had bled speed in their turn. Therese checked the airspeed indicator. She was accelerating past 340 mph. She carefully trimmed the tabs to sync her power and angle of attack. The needle closed on 360. They were low, 700 feet. The English countryside blurred beneath them. Therese checked her rearview mirror. The Jerries were fading. Therese checked her speed, 370. She knew the Mosquito’s 400+ range could only be achieved at a considerably higher altitude, but 370 mph at 700 feet was scalding.

She saw Vivy slightly wobble her wings. Therese glanced in the mirror. The Nazi fighters had turned for home. Therese hoped their shenanigans would cost the Germans. Perhaps some coastal squadron or a standing fighter patrol could be vectored to intercept the demons as they fled for the Channel.

Still not cutting power, Vivy began a wide turn to get them back on a heading for Swanton Morley. Therese glanced off at the smoke coming from de Havilland. It was clever of the German pilots to come in from the west with the sun behind them and facing weary gunners at the end of a long day’s duty. There would be damage and probably deaths, but at least the Luftwaffe couldn’t add two downed Mosquitos to their tally.

Of course, the evasion cost them some time. Vivy cockily kept them roaring well above ATA Maximum. They climbed to 4,000 feet but began to descend a few moments later. The flight was a short bell curve at their high speed. They made smooth landings at the bomber base. Vivy had been correct. It was an impressive sight.

A ground crewman directed them to a spot to park. They shut down. Therese ran to Vivy and hugged her. They laughed with joy.

Tempered by the devastation they witnessed, the women thought it best to internalize the thrill of the encounter and their own survival. At the control tower, they reported the incident. It had already been radioed to Swanton Morley, but there was no word on damage or losses as of yet. They slipped out of their flying coveralls and rolled them up. A couple of bomber pilots directed them to some quarters specifically for overnighters. Each of them had a little room with a bunk. The rooms were stark but clean. The ladies laughed and joked as they washed up in the shared bathroom. A navigator volunteered to stand guard at the door to keep any blokes from walking in on them. He walked with them to supper at the officer’s mess. It was good and different with food they had not seen in a while. Therese could have eaten two servings of the roast beef and potatoes, but she knew that was not possible; she filled up on rolls and a peach cobbler the Yanks’ cooks had sent over.

The navigator was familiar with the area. He told them of a quaint pub just off the base that was an easy walk. He was heading there. Therese and Vivy each took an arm and walked with him.

At the “Old Crow”, they had wine and some laughs with an eclectic bunch of aviators. The Americans hit on them quickly. Before supper, Therese saw Vivy slip a wedding ring on her finger. She had retrieved Carol’s loaner from her change purse and slipped it on as well. Now, they came in handy. They went to a corner booth to drink and talk in peace.

“Therese, I must say you are a striking girl.”

“Uh, thank you, Vivy, you are a beautiful woman.”

“This wine is good, no?”

“It is … surprisingly so.” After a pause, Therese somewhat blurted, “Vivy… the first night, at the pub?”

“Yes, mon amie?”

“How did you know … I was …”

“Like me?”

“Well, yes.”

“I just knew, darling. It is hard to explain. I mean, I am thirty-five, my dear, and can proudly say that I have never been with a man … uh, physically.”

“Oh, my!”

“Yes, but I have had many lovers. Yes, all shapes, colours, and sizes.”

Therese blushed.

Vivy chuckled.

After a moment, Vivy asked, “Who’s ring is that, mon amie? I purchased mine in Montreal. It was a gift to myself in celebration of my first flying related paycheck; I found it cruel to lead the men on.”

Without thinking, Therese answered, “Captain Aird’s grandmother’s.” She paused and stammered, “Uh, she loaned it to me back in … back when…”

“Oh, so you know of Carol’s pref— wait, wait … I see.”

Therese stared into her eyes in a bit of a panic.

“No, no, chérie… don’t be frightened. You love her, don’t you? I see it now. Yes, that is why you’ve been the grumpy puppy these few weeks. An excellent pilot, but you are such a sad girl with a lonely heart… a broken heart.”

They had another glass of wine but drank it slowly. Therese did not want to cry. She felt like it, but not now, not here in front of Vivy.

“I was with Carol for a while … the longest and only monogamous relationship I’ve ever attempted. It was a wonderful time.”

Therese’s eyes must have revealed her pain.

Vivy was perceptive and intelligent. “Oh, but you know this, don’t you?”

Therese did not answer. She lowered her gaze to the glass of wine in her hands.

Vivy subtly tapped Therese’s hand and asked, “What did Carol say of me?”

“Oh … it’s hard to talk about.”

“I see.”

“No, don’t take it wrong, Vivy. She just said she had only been with two women—”

“Abby and me.”

“Yes, but she did not say your name… just that… well.”

“I hurt her.”

Once again, Therese shifted her eyes to the wine.

“What counsel does that wine offer, chérie?”

“None, actually.”

“Therese, let me speak freely. I realized who I was when very young, much like you, I perceive. Early on, back when I was flying the mail across Canada, I saw that we could never marry, have families, hold hands at the zoo…”

Therese saw a tear gather in the corner of Vivy’s eye.

Vivy quickly touched it away and continued, after clearing her throat. “I pursued passionate yet non-committed relationships. Harsh? Perhaps, but I’ve taken what was freely offered and given as much or more in return. The only, one and only, lingering relationship was with our dear Carol. I felt like a schoolgirl with her. Yes, I broke it off with her, but she is a complex woman with complex issues: a husband and a daughter. Mon amie, I simply could not handle the stress. I confess … I fled.

Therese absorbed Vivy’s share. She smiled at her commander.

Vivy seemed refreshed. She quickly returned to her effervescent self.

Later, they returned to their quarters. The rooms were side by side. No one was in the hall. Vivy grasped Therese’s hand and whispered, “Are you alright, Therese?”

Weak kneed with alcohol, flying fatigue, and loneliness, Therese returned the truly luscious female’s gaze. Vivy leaned in, aiming for a kiss.

Therese’s heart was in her throat. _No!_ She avoided the kiss with a turn of her head.

Vivy pulled back and released Therese’s hand then sighed. Vivy opened her door, but paused and turned back gently grasping Therese’s arm. “I will leave you be, mon amour, but I caution, don’t languish too long. Let me know if you ever want to… talk.” Vivy released Therese’s arm then stepped into her room, closing the door behind her.

Therese did the same, changed into her trusty “flying nightgown”, and curled up on the little bunk. It was chilly with only a sheet and a wool army blanket. She got up, unrolled her flight coveralls, and spread them on top of the blanket. Now settled in more comfortably, she whispered to Carol, “I miss you… I miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/1uKvBqB)  
> The control tower at Swanton Morley
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/tifJ7gw)  
> The indomitable Focke-Wulf FW-190, here loaded with a 500 kg high-explosive bomb


	14. "Again, and Again, and Again"

Another late in the day ferry fell to Therese on the 22nd of September, a Spitfire Mk IX from Supermarine to RAF Kenley in Surrey. She took off from Supermarine an hour before sunset. Abby was scrambling trying to find return transport for Therese. Therese told her not to worry; Therese would catch a train home. In appreciation, Abby told her she would clear Therese’s morning.

After landing her Spit, she took her chit to the ATA office. She asked the administrative officer at Kenley, Edward Yates, about the best way to get to East Grinstead.

With little hesitation, Edward answered, “Kenley Station to East Grinstead … the trip takes about 45 minutes. The thing is, I believe the last one of the day leaves shortly. Do you want to try for it?”

“Yes.”

“Bentley, take my car and run Officer Belivet to Kenley Station.”

“Thank you, Edward.”

“You are most welcome, Luv … good luck!”

Therese made the train with not a minute to spare. She found a seat among the business travellers, soldiers, sailors, and airmen. Three nurses were in her compartment. Therese assumed they were going to her own destination, Queen Victoria Hospital. The passenger cars were not crowded, and the travellers on this Tuesday evening were definitely a quiet lot. Tired like her, she assumed.

Therese realized the nurses were escorting two gauze wrapped men, burn victims. She thought of Wing Commander Aird. Therese second-guessed this erratic venture on her part. She shook her head to cast out the demons of doubt.

A woman pushing a cart was selling tea and sandwiches of some sort. She was too nervous to feel hunger, but Therese thought it best to eat something. The food and drink favourably hit her palate. The sustenance actually calmed her stomach. She felt better, calmer.

Therese struck up a purposeful conversation with one of the nurses. After the normal small talk, Therese asked, “Are there any visiting hours in the evening at Queen Victoria?”

“Which ward, Luv?”

“Uh, burn, I suppose.”

The nurse gave her a questioning look, then replied, “There are none for casual visitors in the burn ward. A single immediate family member or minister is all that is allowed.”

Therese decided honesty would be best. “I’m with the ATA.”

“The Glamor Girls?” chimed the nurse referring to the glitzy magazine and newspaper articles featuring the ATA.

Therese blushed. “Well, I question that moniker, but yes. Anyway, I had a layover at Kenley. I am taking the opportunity to visit my Flight Captain. This was an unexpected opportunity, and she is unaware I’m coming. Her husband is convalescing at your facility.

The matronly nurse stood and stepped to Therese to whisper, “What’s his name, dearie?”

“Hargess Aird.”

“The nurse blinked and smiled. She leaned in again. “Carol?”

Therese excitedly smiled and nodded.

“She usually stays with him until nine. I’ll get her word for you. Perhaps she can come down to the lobby and see you. If not sooner, maybe at nine.”

“That would be most kind of you, Nurse...”

“Baker, dearie … and you?”

“Therese Belivet.”

Say again, Luv.

“Therese Belivet.”

“Very well, “‘Leftenant’ Belivet.”

Therese had just been promoted to First Officer. She realized the nurse had seen hundreds of pairs of twin stripes and addressed her rank as an RAF officer. Therese chose not to correct her on the title. “May I walk with you to the hospital from the station.”

“Of course, dearie.”

At the station, Therese gave some assistance to the group of caregivers as they negotiated their patients off of the train. Two orderlies were waiting on the platform with wheelchairs. Nurse Baker followed the pack with Therese at her side. They boarded a modified ramped bus.

Therese said to Nurse Baker, “Oh, perhaps I should walk. Just give me directions.”

“No, no, you ride with us. There is plenty of room.”

Therese slipped into a back corner seat.

At the hospital, Nurse Baker pointed out the sitting area in the lobby.

Therese did not know where she would go or how she would return to Hamble after this, but she didn’t care. She sat for an hour and a half. No word. No message. Her mind floated to the corner of doubts. She checked her aviator’s watch. _Quarter after nine!_ She stood with nails digging into her palms. She felt nauseous again and flush. Her body was walking to the exit, but her mind screamed for Carol.

“Therese! Is that you?”

Therese turned and faced her love from across the sizeable space.

Carol walked to her hurriedly then veered and glanced at her as she passed saying, “Come with me, Therese.”

Outside, the night was cold, and a light fog had begun to settle. Carol said, “Let’s walk; I found a room a block away; a woman lets it to me by the week.”

Therese walked silently by Carol. She glanced at her several times, but Carol did not return them. Carol stayed fixed on their front. Therese questioned who this woman was. She was rail-thin. Her clothes hung on her. Therese wanted to hold her, make her warm, and love her Carol back to this world.

Carol sharply turned into an alley. There was a set of steps at the back of a two-story house. Carol grasped Therese’s hand and led her up the considerable flight. Carol thrust a key into the door lock and pulled the door open. She glanced around, then pulled Therese in.

She took Therese’s bag and purse and tossed them into a tattered chair. The room was the chair, a window, a bed, and a small dresser. A door across the room was open to a tiny water closet. The room smelled a little musty, but Therese suspected that Carol spent very little waking time here.

Carol pulled her overcoat off and flung it on top of the chair. Carol stared into Therese’s eyes like a starving carnivore as she unbuckled the belt around Therese’s tunic. With the belt free, she began to work on Therese’s tunic buttons. Carol was distracted for a moment at Therese’s epaulettes. She murmured, “First Officer? Sorry I missed that, darling. Well done.”

Therese started to speak, but Carol pressed a finger on her lips to hush her. “No, we will talk later, but now I want you. Please, Therese, love me harder than you ever have.

Carol half-spun Therese and pulled her tunic free. She reached around Therese and undid her trousers then pulled them to Therese’s ankles. Carol ran her hands firmly up Therese’s legs and pulled her panties down. Therese instinctively steeped out of the accumulation. Therese, fired by Carol’s request, had her tie loosened and blouse buttons undone. Carol already had Therese’s bra unhooked. The blouse and undergarment landed in the chair.

With Therese bare, Carol paused and finished the spin to face her. Therese began to lean for a kiss. Carol said, “No, no. I’ve drifted into sleep on that bloody bed every night dreaming of kissing you with our heads on that pillow. Nothing is going to deprive me of fulfilling that vision.”

Carol pulled down the sheet, blanket, and quilt while commenting, “This room is so fucking cold… I need all of these. Sorry, Luv.” She gently pushed Therese into the bed, then began to undress. Carol pulled her sweater up and off then her skirt and half-slip down and away.

Therese chuckled; if she had blinked, she would have missed the removal of Carol’s nylons, garter belt, and undies. Diffused by the curtains, the light from a streetlamp backlit Therese’s lover. Therese’s eyes watered at Carol’s lost weight. Therese reached out for her. As Carol embraced Therese, Carol emitted a primordial moan Therese had never heard her emit such a sound. Their heads sank into the soft pillow. They kissed. Time stopped.

Therese meticulously complied with Carol’s request; she loved her hard. Therese devoured her lover, every pale inch of her. Carol screamed. Therese paused. Carol gasped, “Don’t worry dear, Mrs Cranston is away at her daughter’s in Bristol.”

Therese grinned, “Thank you, Mrs Cranston!” Therese feasted on Carol’s centre. The orgasms came and went and came again, and again, and again. Carol cried. Therese held her tight and gently rubbed her back. Therese broke, she sobbed. Carol held her in an almost death grip until it subsided. Carol pulled the covers up and over them. They passed out in each other’s arms.

Therese awoke at daylight to find Carol gone. She went to the chair and checked her watch. It was half-past seven. _My God!_

There was a note on her tunic.

_Dearest,_

_Thank you._

_Go home. I will come for you soon. I promise. I don’t know how. I just know I will._

_You can catch a train for Southampton at 08:35. However, I will be most disappointed if you don’t stop at the corner; the proprietor, Mr Biglee bakes a heavenly sticky bun, and he gets black market coffee from the Yanks. Enjoy them at the station while you daydream of me returning last night’s favour._

_Go, go, my little kestrel. Fly home._

_Give Abby my love._

_I love you,_

_Carol_


	15. Adjoining Door

Therese piloted the air taxi home to Hamble on October 15, 1942. Two other Hamble pilots road with her. To her side was Garner Yearly, and in the back seat was Constance Smith. All three Class 4-Plus rated pilots had been on loan to a western ferrying airfield for the past three days. The airfield in question had to clear 42 Boston bombers to eastern fields in three days. Therese alone ferried thirteen Bostons in these three days. Abby had assigned one of Hamble’s Fairchild Argus air taxis to the women for the mission. They juggled the Argus and the Bostons between the three of them along with any other available taxis and trains to complete the task.

Upon landing and parking the Argus at Hamble, they were eager to see their friends. There was quite the show outside the admin building. An Anson was warmed up with Simone at the controls. Campbell was moving luggage from the boot of the Austin into the Anson. Genevieve Cranell walked out with Abby at her side. Genevieve spotted Therese, Garner, and Constance then yelled over the engine noise, “Adieu, mes amis… superb job on the Bostons!”

Confused, Therese waved to her.

Garner murmured, “What the hell?”

Abby was immediately engaged in some intense conversation with Campbell and their maintenance chief. With the slightest of disengagement from her discussion, she glanced at Therese and winked. Constance and Garner darted off to the loo.

Therese numbly walked to the admin building. It seemed like all of the surrounding noise was muted. She entered, set her bag and parachute down then stared at the Flight Captain’s office. She slowly moved in its direction, plodding steps, pausing for a distracted clerk to pass then advancing again. A foot from the door, she paused and took a deep breath to feed her racing heart. She took the last step to the door and literally peeked in. Therese riveted for several seconds on the person writing away at the desk.

Carol must have sensed the presence. She glanced up from pen and paper. Her intoxicatingly, wide smile slowly appeared. In a teasingly matter of fact voice, she said, “Hello, Therese… nice work with the bombers. I bet you're ready to relax. Why don’t you head over to the Crook; Abby and I can break away from here in a half-hour or so. They’ve put together a special meal welcoming me back. It will be in the officers dining room at eight. All of our pilots will be there. Do you think you can stay awake that long, sleepyhead?” She whispered, “I know that tired little girl look.”

Therese nodded.

Carol silently mouthed, “I love you.”

Therese grinned, turned, and exited the office. She walked to the pub. Once inside, she perched at the bar.

“Wine, First Officer Belivet?”

“No, Mr Oliver … a pint of bitters.”

“Well, I just felt the earth shift.”

Therese chuckled then shrugged.

Mr Oliver filled the big glass, gave the base a swipe with his cloth then gently placed it before her.

Therese hefted the weighty drink and took a long draw. Room temperature, biting, and dark, the solution fell to her empty stomach like a massaging waterfall. She smiled dreamily.

Mr Oliver asked, “My, my … did Jerry surrender today?”

“No, no, Luv … but I wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the world at this moment.”

“Okay then … that’s good …jolly good.”

“Yes, jolly good.”

ATA chums came by and chatted then drifted off only to cycle back later. Therese laughed at their jokes or listened intently to their recounts. She thanked them for complementing her; the massive Boston ferry was a big deal in their world.

Therese caught movement at the entrance in her peripheral vision. She turned to see if it was— yes, her Carol. Abby had Carol’s arm. She was laughing away at Carol’s dry humour as she always had and always would.

Carol was different: tired, worn, and gaunt. She would be back. Therese would bring her back to them.

Several people clapped for Carol. Therese thought she saw her blush a bit, unusual for her love. Therese had drained her glass. “Two more of these please, Mr Oliver.” After the pints were up, she lifted them then spun on the stool and moved toward a vacated table in the corner. Carol slowly worked her way to Therese and sat.”

Repeating something Carol told her on that magic first date, Therese whispered, “Now, I’ve got you.”

Carol chuckled.

“What happened, Carol?”

“I didn’t inform you or anyone here of it, but Harge is dead.”

“What? Carol! We could have—”

He died ten days ago … I returned to his floor after getting a bite of supper in the cafeteria. The nurses and a doctor were racing about. I glanced into his ward only to be pulled away from the door by Nurse Baker.”

She began to cry. Therese clasped her hand and handed her a handkerchief.

Carol regained her composure and continued. “They were giving him chest compressions. Their best efforts failed. The doctor told me later that his lungs ... damaged by toxic fumes in the burning Lanc ... filled with fluids.”

“Oh, no, Carol. That is so very, very sad.”

“Yes, I chose to not inform the ATA any of you here at Hamble until after the funeral in Kent at his family’s church. Dearest, I apologize for that; with the nature of everyone’s callings, I couldn’t see pulling you and everyone else away from the war effort. Besides, we were all best left alone to mourn as a family. Mum brought Rindy over. After the service, Mum and I took Rindy back to Broadheath. I slept the better part of three days then spent every moment I could, with Rindy. She missed some school, but that was well and good. I contacted the ATA and was thrilled to find that they desperately needed me… wanted me.”

“Of course we do.”

“Well …”

“Did Vivy protest?”

“Heavens no … they already wanted her to come back to help put the finishing touches on this new four-engine bomber training program. She could not depart fast enough.”

“Carol, please don’t take offence, but you seem frail. Perhaps you should have taken some more time off to regain your health.”

“No, I need to work, Therese. I know I’m skinny, but frankly, I kind of like it. I thought I could lose a few pounds before any of this happened.”

“Stress is not a healthy means to lose weight.”

“Hush, you … I won’t have it. I’m fine and ready to go to work.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Abby walked over and leaned down to hug Therese. “I’m so glad you’re back, Luv.”

“Well, it’s good to be back. If I see another Boston anytime soon, I believe I’ll become violently ill.”

Carol and Abby laughed at their young pilot.

Therese asked Abby, “So, you’re caught up on all of this already?”

“Yes, darling … poor Harge.”

Later, the entire pool walked back to Hamble for dinner. The Yanks heard about her return and wrangled turkeys for the cooks to prepare. The women, some a bit tipsy, thoroughly enjoyed the meal, and they really enjoyed having the honoree back.

After dinner, the pool filtered out onto the field and then sang together before heading to their eclectic mix of quarters. Carol and Therese had stayed in the dining room. They giggled while listening to the warbling of their birds.

The aids were beginning to clear the table. Therese and Carol walked out to the field. All were gone save for Abby.

Sure that they were out of earshot and view, Abby handed Carol a key. “Listen, you two. Therese, you are the only one of us at the Yacht Club until two new girls arrive on Monday. That is a key to what was Grace’s room.”

“Next to mine?”

“Yes.”

“Carol, I made a big fuss about your quarters being such a mess today; Vivy was a slob, bless her sexy little heart. I told them to get it cleaned up properly tomorrow, and to have your bags sent to this room. Carol, you can move into your old quarters the day after tomorrow. Be sure to tousle up your room a bit, Carol… and keep the noise down. There are staff workers over there at times.”

Carol started to speak, but Abby cut her off.

“This plan is perfect, my dears. Hell, the rooms have an adjoining door.”

Therese murmured, “Oh, that’s right, Carol, they do.”

Carol smirked, gave the key in her hand a tight squeeze, and chimed, “That’s that.”

“Now, Therese, you get your things from the office and head on over first … for appearance’s sake. Carol and I will have a shot of some excellent Kentucky Bourbon a Yank left me last month. Then, she’ll come a-knockin'!”

Therese was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was off in a flash. Carol watched her disappear into the fog. “Abby, despite what you say, this is a bit of a risk.”

“So, what! It’s just this once … well, twice,” she teased and poked Carol’s arm, “Two nights!”

Therese wriggled under her covers with excitement when she heard the sounds of Carol entering next door. She had the adjoining door unlocked on her side. Carol rustled about for a few minutes, then unlocked her side of the door and eased it open.

“Good, you have a light on,” whispered Carol as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. Therese had left her desk lamp on but draped a red scarf over it.

Therese was awed by the vision before her. Carol had on a beautiful black negligee. She had let down her blonde locks and brushed them out. Therese felt so overmatched. “My, God! That’s beautiful, Carol … but, I’m—”

“What, creaming under those covers without a stitch?”

“Therese snickered.”

“Well, this won’t be on for long.”

“No. I’m calling in your marker. Bring me to climax at least once with that on; then you may shed it.”

“Did a Spitfire demon fall from space and trade places with my Spitfire angle?”

“C’mon, you … get over here.”

The club had marvellous steam radiators in each room. It was cosy warm. Carol snapped Therese’s covers down, stood back, and ran her eyes along the exposed, firm, young body. She pulled the nightgown up to her hips then crawled up on top of Therese, a straddle. Therese had her hands clasped between her breasts.”

“Good, Lord, Therese!”

“I know … but I can’t help it. You’re so—Ahh!”

Carol cut her off with a gentle bite of her nipple, then took her lips around it and sucked it in lovingly. Therese quivered. Carol’s hand was gently squeezing and caressing Therese’s other breast. “You taste divine, darling.”

“Ohhh.”

“Yes, my love, divine.”

Satiated with that area, Carol moved up to kiss her girl. Their tongues massaged one another. Carol shifted to Therese's side then slipped two fingers into Therese. The young woman jerked with pleasure. Carol kept probing. Carol teased, “Have we done this before, First Officer Belivet… it feels like the first time.”

“No, I don’t think so, Captain Aird.”

“I bet Vivy Cranell made a play for you.”

“Ohhh! Yes, she did … but, but … I shunned her.”

“You shunned her?" repeated Carol with a chuckle. "That’s my girl!”

Carol rolled Therese onto her tummy while never pulling from Therese’s wetness. Carol began to run her other hand up and down Therese’s spine while kissing and nibbling her lovely rump. Carol deftly traded her thumb for the fingers and let them go to work on Therese’s clit.

Therese was hot. She was burning hot. She felt an explosion building in her core.

Carol shifted to her knees; then using her luscious handle, she pulled Therese up on her knees as well. Carol pressed Therese’s back to keep her head down. The sight of her lover’s gorgeous posterior writhing in the room’s rosy glow had Carol’s loins cooking as well. She felt like nothing more than a flick of her own clitoris would yield a climax.

Therese clinched her pillow with her fists and bit it with her teeth. She shook as she came, and Carol revelled in the glory of their passion.

Therese rolled on her back to cool herself and breathe only to find Carol slipping the silky garment off over her head.

Therese exclaimed, “Oh, fuck!”

“Exactly, my dear,” spoke Carol as she grabbed Therese’s ankles, spread them apart then slid forward, taking her mouth to her lover’s aching orifice.

Therese had her Carol back … in spades. They would report for duty in a few hours. They would be sleep-deprived and weary, but they would be happy, truly, truly happy.


	16. Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/3Wfu4Qa)  
>  The Spitfire Mk XIV, top of the food chain.

After the Second Battle of El Alamein was won in November of 1942, the Allies shifted to the offensive in their war with the Axis powers. Britain became the conduit for arming the growing forces of the European Theatre. The ATA made a splash in the newspapers buy delivering their 100,000th aircraft.

In the spring of 1943, Therese and Carol got their Class 5 ratings. They began ferrying American B-17 four-engine daytime-bombers and British Avro Lancaster nighttime-bombers. These flights required a two-woman crew, a pilot and a flight engineer. The pilots took turns filling the flight engineer role in the beginning, but soon, the ATA was recruiting men and women to serve exclusively as flight engineers. In the summer of that year, the women of the ATA started receiving the same pay as their male counterparts, an unheard-of achievement.

In early 1944, over a million American military personnel were in Britain. Everyone knew the invasion of France was coming, but no one knew when and, of course, exactly where. Hampshire became a massive marshalling yard late in the spring. Therese and Carol smirked when returning from flights. The hundreds of landing craft docked all the way from Southampton to Portsmouth told the tale. The heart of the invasion would launch from their area.

On June 6th, 1944, the ATA was grounded. The skies blackened with thousands of Allied aircraft: heavy bombers, medium bombers, and fighter planes. Therese, Carol, and Abby realized the same busy sky from the night before must have been filled with transport aircraft carrying airborne troops. Tens of thousands of troops boarded ships in Southampton and departed every day. The Allies gained a foothold in Normandy.

After the liberation of Paris in August of 44, the Hamble pool, now over forty strong, gathered at the “Crook” and raised their glasses to the Allied armies. Simone and Denise were ecstatic. However, the Allied advances seemed to stall in the fall and winter at the Low Countries and along the German border. Therese was crushed after a letter from Phil McElroy came in November. The boys’ Spitfire squadron was now stationed in France. Dannie had been shot down by ground fire just inside Germany while strafing a Luftwaffe airfield. Dannie’s wingman saw him bailout, but it was at low altitude, and they had no knowledge of Dannie’s present state. Carol closed her office door and held Therese tight while she cried her heart out.

On a dreary October morning in 1944, Therese landed a Fairey Barracuda at a Naval Air Station in northeast Scotland. She had a two-hour wait for an air taxi. She went for lunch at their mess and was stunned to find Richard Semco dinning with his Liberator crew. He did not see her. She walked up behind him and covered his eyes, asking, “Sink any U-boats today, Luv?”

He paused a moment, then loudly proclaimed, “Just one ... one for you, Therese Belivet!”

His mates laughed. Richard stood and hugged her. He introduced her to his crew. Distracted by the stunning aviatrix, they stammered through “nice to meet you”, “the pleasure is mine”, and even a simple “hello.” Therese had matured into a real “knockout”.

Richard moved his plate and saucer to a table at which they could catch up. Therese told him of her ferries, and he described his long flights over the North Atlantic. “99% abject boredom and 1% thrill and terror.” He showed her a picture of his wife and baby girl. Therese raved over the photo and complimented him. He beamed. They hugged and parted after Therese’s air taxi arrived. On the flight home, she reflected on the price she would pay for the salt of a life with Carol.

Carol and Therese spent their fourth Christmas together, but this time they collected Joan and Anna on the way to Carol’s mother’s home. The six females had a marvellous time in the big country house. Rindy, now eleven, insisted they play Heads and Bodies on Christmas Eve, “Just like last Christmas!” This cemented the comical tradition. The air of frivolity was daunted somewhat by the radio’s reporting of a major German counteroffensive in Belgium.

The Battle of the Bulge was won in January of 1945. After that, their troops made steady advances in Germany in February and March. The fighting was horrendous; death or missing-in-action notices rained down on families from the Shetland Islands to the Isle of Wight.

On May 8, 1945, Therese ferried a Spitfire Mk XIV. A thrilling flight, the Griffon engine powered Mk XIV had twice the horsepower of the Mk Is she flew while training in 1941. Therese knew the war was almost over. “Fuck it,” she proclaimed and gave it full throttle at 7,000 feet. Its wicked five-bladed propeller pulled her along at 450 mph, a hundred faster than the old Mk I could have managed.

One of their Fairchild Argus taxis had been left previously at the Mk XIV’s destination. She flew it home and laughed at the contrast. Upon landing at Hamble, she clambered out of the Argus to see Carol and Abby running to her from the office.

Abby yelled, “It’s over! It’s over, Therese! The Germans have surrendered.”

The very same day, a letter arrived from Dannie and Phil’s mother. Dannie had been liberated from a stalag near Frankfurt. 


	17. Making It Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/acr0Xwm)   
> 
> 
> Beechcraft 18 or "Twin Beech"

On May 8, 1945, the Japanese had lost their war as well, but surrender was not in their nature. The ATA not only ferried aircraft, but they also transported supplies and personnel. Large armies remained on the continent occupying Germany. Therese and Carol saw the writing on the wall. They knew this would all end at some point. With no war, the ATA would not be needed, and the female pilots would be released to go back to the kind of lives they had before the war. That was not for Therese and Carol.

With more than dutiful enthusiasm, Carol and Therese applied for and were approved for conversion training once again. Now they were Class 6 rated and began to ferry seaplanes and flying boats such as the Catalina; this came with substantial instrument and radio instruction. They flew cargo and passengers to Belgium and Germany in their reliable Ansons, and more than once brought POWs back.

In July, Carol was dining with her mother, Gloria Rose, and her fiancé, Camden Heard, now a naval captain. Camden listened intently to Carol’s goal of starting an air service in the West Indies. Camden loved Gloria dearly, and he had a fatherly affection and admiration for Carol. He informed Carol of two real estate holdings he had in the Cayman Islands. Inherited from his father, the two coastal properties were located on Grand Cayman and Cayman Brac, two of the three territory’s islands. They began to hatch a plan.

The Hamble pool celebrated again on the day Japan surrendered, August 14, 1945. On the 30th of November at White Waltham, Lord Beaverbrook, the Minister of Aircraft Production, paid tribute to the Air Transport Auxiliary as they were disbanded. In five years, without radios and only gyros and compasses to guide them, over eleven hundred pilots including 166 women, delivered over 300,000 aircraft. 177 of the pilots died, usually in accidents involving bad weather or mechanical failure.

Gloria married Camden in October of 45. They chose to live at his estate in Essex. Gloria sold the home in Broadheath and split the proceeds right down the middle with Carol. Carol was not expecting this. She had to sit down after her mother told her. Therese was present and held her hand tightly. Gloria gave Therese a knowing wink.

Rindy was now attending a fine public school. Rindy had grown quite close to Therese. Carol and Therese had a long talk with her at Christmas describing their goal and promising to fly Rindy to the Caribbean to join them for the summer holiday.

Rindy expressed hurt feelings. “But, Mummy, I thought we would be able to spend more time together after the war … this will be even worse.”

Carol confessed that she had planned to bring Rindy with them to the Caymans, but she felt it unwise to do so until they were established with a residence and functioning business. Carol promised to let Rindy decide where she wanted to live on July 1st; she would have a month of island living under her belt. Thusly placated, Rindy promised to be strong and work hard in school. Gloria and Camden had assured Carol that they would visit Rindy at least once a month.

*****

In early December, Therese and Carol searched diligently for an aeroplane. Carol went one way and Therese the other. After two days of dead ends, Therese tried Bristol. A 65-year-old ATA pilot, Tom Higgins, who had been a friend of Therese’s father at British Airways, told her about a surplus Beechcraft 18 floatplane. It was among an eclectic mix of other such aircraft at a Southampton clearing yard. He was kind enough to take the train with her to look it over. After inspecting the aircraft, Therese was on the facility's office phone in minutes. She and Carol had developed a three-party means of reaching one another. Three times a day, they would each call Gloria. If Therese or Carol found a likely acquisition, they would leave a phone number for Gloria to pass on to the other. It was a quarter to noon. Carol would call Gloria at one. Therese bought her old chum fish and chips, and they ate them on the dock.

The vendor sold watery tea as well. Therese commented, “At least it’s hot.”

Tom growled, “Yes, Luv, but I’ve had weaker.”

“On an airfield in France in 1917?”

“How did you know that … oh … old men and their war stories, huh, Luv?”

She chuckled, and side hugged him.

At five-past-one Therese and Tom were waiting by the office phone when it rang. After Therese answered, the operator put the call through.

“Therese?”

“Yes, Carol.”

“What have you found?”

“A Twin Beech 18 floatplane … Tom Higgins of the Whitechurch ferry pool put me on to it.”

“Tom? Well, give him my love, Therese.”

“I will. Carol, have you ever flown a Twin Beech?”

“Yes, but not one with floats. I do remember one thing. They have a twelve-hundred-mile range. We can’t readily get it to Grand Cayman.”

“Au contraire, mon cher. This beauty has been altered for long-range. It has two one-hundred gallon auxiliary tanks in the cabin. Tom says the Navy chaps that did the work did a bang-up job. Oh … icing on the cake… the passenger seats that were removed to make room for the tanks?”

“Yes?”

“They’re all stacked and cable secured in the back of the cabin.”

“This seems right.”

“I know. How fast can you get down here?”

“You won’t believe this, darling. I’m at Lee-on-the-Solent … everything here is too big for us. I'll leave immediately; I can be there in the Hornet in a half-hour.”

“Smashing.”

“Ta ta, Luv.”

“Take care, Carol. Bye, bye.”

*****

Carol Aird and her “business partner”, Therese Belivet, departed Southampton for the Shetlands on January 20, 1946, at first light. Tom had patiently worked with them, changing the oil, filters, and spark plugs. The twin engines only had fifty hours on them since their last overhauls. The ponderous fuel lines did not leak on three test flights, one long and two short. The oil seals were good, all of the instruments and lights worked, and the plane flew like a dream. It cruised at a smooth 200 miles an hour.

Therese spoke, “I’m so glad Tom alerted us as to how the cabin tanks actually hurt the value from the dealer’s point of view.”

Carol replied, “Yes, such a blessing. 300 to 400 pounds saved is that much more we have for everything else.”

Therese sighed, “Everything else …”

“We’ll be fine, darling.”

“It’s a shame we couldn’t take the southern route via the Azores.”

“I agree, but that middle leg from the Azores to the Virgin Islands was 2,500 hundred miles. A bit dicey … wouldn’t have had a drop to spare.”

“I know, gorgeous … I was just wishing.”

They had waited a week for the North Atlantic weather forecast they required. Both women couldn’t help but be nervous. It was a series of long flights, over water, and it was January. If they did survive a crash of some sort, they would not last very long in the frigid waters.

Interestingly, Lerwick was the best spot to land in a calm bay and refuel. They had supper and spent the night at the scene of their delicious night in 1941.

Phillip was still there and greeted them by name. They couldn’t believe he recognized them. He had come of age before the war ended, joined the army then survived Sword Beach, Caen, and the Scheldt Estuary. As jovial and accommodating as ever, he got them their same room. After a snuggly night and a hearty breakfast, they were off for Reykjavik, Iceland. The four-hour flight and landing were smooth. They stayed in a boarding house recommended by Richard.

Richard was working for a bank in Winchester. They took him and his wife to dinner, and he enthusiastically provided many pointers for there crossing. Somewhere near the end of the meal, Therese thought Richard finally figured it out. Therese liked Sheila Semco and felt confidant that the couple were meant for each other.

The next day’s flight was the most challenging, fourteen hundred miles to Greenland. They left at dawn. Fog and fairly high winds cost them. They were well into one of their big cabin tanks by the time they landed on the west coast of Greenland. Therese spelled Carol every two hours of the eight-hour flight. Richard did not have a specific spot for them to stay in the little port village, but he knew the locals were always eager for lodgers. Upon landing, an American naval officer was intrigued by the pair, for obvious reasons. He proved quite the gentlemen making his base’s bachelor officer quarters and mess available to them. He even had his sentries alter their guard routes to keep an eye on their plane.

Contrastingly smooth but longer was the next day’s flight to a Canadian shore. After ten hours the twin radial engines were drinking from the second of the cabin tanks.

They made Maine the next day, then Charleston, South Carolina, the day after that.

They flew to a seaplane servicing operation just south of Miami, Florida, the next day and had them change their oil. With an early start, they flew due south the following day. After 400 miles of perfect flying conditions, they slipped into the harbour at George Town, Grand Cayman.

They caught a cab to the address of Camden’s solicitor, Arthur Brown. He took them to lunch then drove them to an apartment he had rented on their behalf. They rested a couple of days.

On day three, Arthur climbed into the Twin Beech’s passenger seat and rode with them to inspect their properties. The first one was located a few miles west along the southern coast near East End, Grand Cayman. Next, they flew the 90 miles over water to a beautiful little inlet on Cayman Brac near Spot Bay. Carol and Therese’s hearts raced after landing and wading through crystal clear water to the inlet’s sugar-white beach; it was “the dreamy one.”


	18. The Governor, Limey, and Claudia

The presence of the Twin Beech caused quite a stir in Georgetown. A government official came and knocked on Therese and Carol’s apartment door the day after their flight with Mr Brown. The man named Quincy Sharp cut to the chase; during the war, the Cayman Islands had lost any source of air service on Cayman Brac. Quincy extended an invitation for the women to meet with the governor. Carol mentioned their relationship with Mr Brown. Quincy excitedly stated that he knew Mr Brown and his presence at the meeting would be welcome.

The pilots and Mr Brown met with the Governor the next day; Carol and Therese were glad they packed dresses. Invited to high tea, the Governor, his wife, a couple of staff members and the aptly named Quincy Sharp listened to the women’s business plan. Quincy stated what they felt the Territory needed. An amicable compromise was reached. Mr Brown made notes in the margin of Carol’s typed plan, read them aloud, and upon a nod from the governor, promised to have the altered agreement to Quincy the next afternoon.

The Governor’s wife took a shine to the ladies. She was awed by their wartime exploits. She said a courier would come by their apartment before the day was out with a formal invitation to her party set for the coming Saturday. She saw their concern over attire, and assertively offered to have her dressmaker come by with three or four in their sizes. “Choose the two you like and let them be my welcoming gift to you.”

As Mr Brown drove them from the mansion, they excitedly reviewed the fortuitous meeting. The agreement was remarkable. The women of the ATA had become the “Attagirls” in the British press. If Attagirls-Cayman Flight Service paid for the materials, the government would provide surface transport to Cayman Brac plus the labour to construct a cottage, pier, and small flight station. The government’s flight needs were modest in the eyes of Carol and Therese, but vital to the Governor’s administration and the people of the Cayman Islands. There was a challenge in the agreement; Attagirls-Cayman had a 90-day probationary period. If the government was dissatisfied with their service anytime within the first 90 days, it could cancel the contract, and the women would have to pay for the pre-agreed upon the cost of construction less materials of course. After the first three months, the contract would be set for three years. After the three years, they would be free of any obligation to the government of the Cayman Islands.

*****

Early the next morning, Therese donned dungarees and sneakers and began to ply the docks and airfield of Georgetown. Mr Brown had given her the names of the port’s two aeroplane service and repair businesses. One was of good size and established while the other was a bit ragtag and new. She went to the larger one first and was told the owner was on an errand, but she was more than welcome to wait. She subtly moseyed around and listened in on the mechanics working in the shop and hangar. Therese told the clerk she would drop by later in the day.

At the second shop, she asked for the owner by name, “May I speak with George Pitts?”

The wiry thirtyish fellow replied, “Speakin’!”

“Oh, nice to meet you, Mr Pitts, my name is Therese Belivet—”

“Ah, you’re one of the birds with the Twin floater in the harbour. Heard ya flew it all the way from Southampton.”

“Well, yes. Uh, my partner and I were interested—”

“You want an aeroplane mechanic.”

“Yes … hey do you ever let anyone finish a sentence?”

He cackled, “There ya go, missy. Me mum sez she shoulda made me middle name ‘Brash’… here let’s start over, Luv. Nice to meet ya, Therese … is it? Me friends just call my ‘Limey’, and I hope we can be … friends. “ He wiped the engine grime from his hand then extended it.”

Therese liked this guy. She unhesitatingly shook his hand. “Well … Limey, would you like to look at our plane?”

“I already have, Luv. She’s a beauty! I peeked in her windas this morning. I bet ya want them big tanks out?”

“We do … and the seats in.”

“No problem, Therese … such a snazzy name that.” He pulled a tiny note pad from his shirt pocket, tore off the top page then handed her the piece of paper with its pencilled scribbling. “Here’s an estimate.”

Later that morning, Therese entered their apartment, beaming, “Carol, I found a mechanic!”

“That’s good, Therese, we’re in my bedroom.”

 _Who the fuck is in your bedroom?_

This is Claudia, Therese. She’s brought the dresses. Therese’s draw dropped; Carol was stunning in a low cut, green evening gown.

“Claudia, meet Therese …”

“How do you do, Ma’am … ah, ya look like a boy this morning. Very cute, Luv, but why don’t ya have a wash and try this black number on.”

Therese numbly grasped the hook of the hanger and walked to the loo. She almost tripped over her feet, glancing back over her shoulder at Carol. Carol stifled a laugh.


	19. First Fare

On Thursday, Therese was up early in knock-a-bout clothes. She went down to see how Limey was progressing with the modifications to their plane. Finding things grand, she returned at ten. She found Carol and Mr Brown working through applications for licensing and the signature cards for their new Caymanian bank accounts. They laughed at the fact that their new island paradise was in fact, a little Britain in many ways. Therese made tea and carried the tray in.

Mr Brown sheepishly prefaced, “I’m glad Therese is back. I want to discuss something with the both of you.”

Carol commented, “Hmm, sounds serious; what’s this one going to cost?”

“No, no, Carol, this is on a personal matter, not business.”

“Oh, how refreshing, we’re all ears, counsellor.”

Therese sat and began to pour.

Mr Brown explained, “We were all business at the meeting with the Governor day before yesterday, but Mr Sharp and I are quite the chums.”

Therese chuckled, “Really? No, I would never have guessed it.”

“Nor I,” said Carol.

“Anyway, we will be attending the party on Saturday, and would both prefer attending with the company of a lady.”

Carol exclaimed, “Mr Brown, are you asking us out?”

Therese snickered.

“Well yes … we realize we are a bit long in the tooth for the two of you, but to lessen the gaps as best we can … well, uh hmm … we thought perhaps Carol would take my arm, and Therese, Quincy’s.”

Carol smiled at Therese, “What do think, young lady?”

“It would be better.”

“I agree.”

Mr Brown beamed, “Well then, I’ll phone Quincy with this jolly good news upon my return to the office.”

Later, after Mr Brown departed with a spring in his step, Therese asked Carol, “Is it just me or was that a bit odd?”

“It’s not just you, dear, but it’s understandable.”

“How so?”

“Well, I hazard that our dates are more than ‘chums’, my dear.”

“Wha— Oh!”

“Yes, Luv, I think we have just entered into yet another beneficial relationship.”

At mid-afternoon, a messenger from the Governor’s office delivered an envelope.

Carol read the face aloud, “Mrs Carol Aird and Miss Therese Belivet.”

She removed the handwritten letter inside and silently read. Carol worked her way down into a chair as she read. Therese was charmed by the incredulous grin on Carol’s face. Upon finishing, Carol began to laugh and passed the correspondence off to Therese.

Therese dove into the masculine yet beautiful handwriting.

 _Ladies,_

_Thank you so very much for accompanying us this Saturday. It is most gracious of you._

_Mr Brown and I plan to call for you at seven in the Governor’s Rolls. If said time is inconvenient, please let Mr Brown know, and we will adjust our schedule accordingly. Note, the party will have heavy hors d’oeuvres, but I suggest a solid tea at four to hold you over. There will be music, dancing, and extended mingling. It will be an excellent introduction for the two of you to our islanders._

_By the way, I have a prospective client for your services. If you are interested, they welcomed you to join them at the Cayman Lounge at five this evening for drinks. I assumed you would be ‘interested’ but pardon my taking the liberty. Best of luck with them; they are Americans from Montana. Ask for Caleb Bennett, and I’m quite serious when I alert you to his wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy boots._

_Your humble servant,_

_Quincy Sharp, Esq._

*****

“Mr Bennett?”

“You got him, ma’am.”

“Carol Aird … Therese Belivet … nice to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine, ladies.”

They shook hands.

Carol glanced at the others at Caleb’s table.

As he gestured, he identified, “This is my wife, Lori, and these two are our son, Huston, and our daughter, Helena.”

Carol and Therese worked the four with handshakes and greetings.

Lori exclaimed, “My, my, y’all are the prettiest pilots I’ve ever seen.”

Teenaged Huston both nodded and shook his head at the same time. He obviously couldn’t make up his mind which feminine visage to focus on.

“Have a seat, ladies. What can I get y’all to drink? Waiter!”

“A dry martini with an olive.”

“Same.”

Lori cooed, “Ooh, Caleb, that sounds good.”

Okay then, “Waiter, three dry martinis with olives, soft dranks for the kids, and a bourbon and branch for me.”

The waiter looked a bit confused, so Lori rescued, “Hon, that’s a bourbon and water … neat.”

Ladies, I tend to cut right to it … we’re third-generation ranchers from Montana. With the war in the rearview mirror and a bank full of money that came from selling beef to the Navy and Army, we’ve decided to have some fun. I have good help at the ranch, so I left them boys with it. We’ve had a lifetime of those freezing winters. These islands are like heaven.

Carol commented, “A hearty well done to you and your family, Mr Bennett.”

He grinned proudly then said, “Actually, we are taken enough with this territory to consider buying property down here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We want you gals to fly us to all three of the islands and back in one day. That will give us something to think about while we enjoy Grand Cayman over the next two weeks. Of course, we’ll probably holler again when we need a second look.”

“Do you have a day in mind for the first flight?”

“Friday.”

“We’d love to help you, Mr Bennett—”

“We’re just plain old Caleb and Lori, and do you mind if we call you Carol and Therese?”

“Oh, no, that would be lovely, Caleb. As I was saying we’re thrilled to help you, and I think we can, but I’d like to make full disclosure of our situation.” Carol and Therese had worked out a smooth presentation. Carol started by briefly recounting their wartime flying then Therese described the recent flight over. Carol concluded with the present state of their startup.”

Caleb asked, “But, you’ve got an aeroplane… we saw it. Frankly, that’s how we ended up meeting with you. Hudson saw that Beechcraft, and he begged me to try and arrange for the owner to take us up. I mentioned the aircraft at the bank; we’ve opened an account down here. The banker asked the governor’s man, that Mr Sharp about it, and here we are.”

Therese boldly asserted, “Our mechanic will be finished with our aircraft tomorrow. We’ll test fly it to make sure it's tip-top then we’ll be ready. What time would you like to depart on Friday?”

Caleb grinned at Therese then said to Carol, “The exuberance and confidence of youth, don’t ya just love it, Carol?”

She nodded.

He extended his hand to Therese, “Okay, girl, what’s your fee?”

“Oh…”

Carol replied, “Well, we’re still working on a pricing list, but—”

“I tell ya what, ladies, how about $500 cash for the day. Here’s a hundred upfront as a retainer.” He looked at Lori, and asked, “Sweetie, tell Therese when to look for us down on the pier.”

“Nine, I reckon.”

Therese released his hand after shaking it and took the bill then she passed it to Carol. Carol asked, “We have a receipt book with us, let me just—”

“No need, Carol. I just shook hands on it while looking this filly in the eye. That’s as good as any piece of paper where we come from.”

Carol shook his hand, as well.

The quiet fourteen-year-old Helena raised her soda pop and proudly toasted, “Here’s to Slant B Ranch and Attagirl-Cayman Air Service.”

They all joined her, took their sips then laughed.

Lori reached over and patted Carol’s arm. “So we’re your first paying fare, Carol?”

“Yes.”

“You might want to frame that hundred, darlin’.”

Carol gave her a thoughtful look. Always proactive, Carol asked, “Lori, will we need to arrange for food and beverages for the day?”

“No, Carol, we’re kinda picky. Helena and I will take care of all of that. Just make room for a big picnic basket.

*****

Therese and Carol were ready and waiting for the Bennetts at a quarter to nine on Friday morning. The Twin Beech now had six spic and span passenger seats with a sizeable cargo area in the tail. The Montana family piled in.

It was a spectacular day with unlimited ceiling and visibility. The temperature at takeoff was 75 degrees and the forecast for the day’s high was 82. A breeze made the harbour a little choppy, but Carol had them up smartly and on their way in no time. They circled Grand Cayman clockwise then took the northern coast once more to clear the big island and make for Little Cayman. They touched down at South Town, inspected the small community, and were soon off again to land at a recommended beach on the northern coast. It was beautiful. This was the most sparsely populated of the Cayman Islands. The kids waded in the blue water while the adults had lemonade in the shade of some palms.

They were soon off for Cayman Brac. Carol and Therese proudly pointed out their construction site and were joyed to see much of their materials had already been delivered. They landed at two more spots that caught Caleb’s eye. They picnicked at the second one. Therese and Carol put up a tarpaulin to make a changing station for the family. The Bennetts put their swimsuits on and swam. Carol cautioned the lily-white Yanks about getting burned. The family tried to make only short frolics in the ocean. Actually, the family's faces, necks, and hands were a deep brown. Carol and Therese could tell how much time the family spent outdoors. 

Helena sat and worked on a sandcastle with Therese. The girl was quite taken with the female pilots and asked lots of questions about what it was like to fly in different places and under varying kinds of weather. Therese asked her about ranching and was impressed with the youngster’s knowledge and obvious skills relative to livestock. Helena was sure she wanted to study animal husbandry in college someday and return to their ranch then raise both animals and a family.

Despite their caution, the Americans were a little burned, but they all laughed it off. With Therese at the controls, they took another spin around Cayman Brac and then headed back for George Town.

They landed at half-past-five. Pleasantly exhausted, the family plodded off for their lodging, but not before Caleb walked over to say goodbye to his pilots. He handed Carol five one hundred dollar bills. “That extra bill is for two things, ladies: a truly great day of flying and to encourage you to take Lori’s advice and frame that first one. On our wall at home is the first dollar my granddaddy made as a rancher in 1882. We believe it’s brought our family luck and success through the best and worst of times. Do it, ladies. Hey, I plan to talk y’all up, and in all modesty, that means something in Montana.

That night, after a long bath, Therese slipped on a nighty and stepped into Carol’s room. Disappointed to find her love soundly sleeping, Therese lay down beside her and gazed at Carol’s beautiful face in the moonlight. She was soon asleep, as well. The salt air, light, and temperature had drained the two women.


	20. "Carol"

At half-past six on Saturday evening, Therese stepped to her bedroom door and called out, “Carol, are you ready?”

She heard Carol respond, “Yes, darling … on three. One, two, three!”

They both stepped out and gazed at one another. Carol had her hair up, exposing her shoulders. They were bare save for two spaghetti straps. The green satin gown flowed from her mesmerizing bosom to the floor. Therese could only imagine what the lingerie underneath looked like. Claudia had brought it all: gowns, lingerie, and shoes. Carol lifted her hem a bit to expose the matching green pumps.

Carol's eyes shot back to her love then said, “Turn around for me, darling, I must see the entire package.”

Therese slowly spun in her rainbow sequin, black rayon crepe, evening gown. The softly covered shoulders contrasted with a plunging narrow V neckline that came to a spear point just inches above her navel. Her shoes were jet-black pumps with cute satin bows. She had her hair up and tightly back. The eye shadow Claudia brought gave the young pilot a mysterious air.

“Uhm, simply smashing, Therese.”

Quincy and Mr Brown were at Carol and Therese’s door precisely at seven. They were spot on British black-tie. The men exclaimed over the ladies’ attire and proclaimed themselves unworthy of such beauty.

The Governor’s driver had them delivered at the mansion in what seemed like no time. They were early, but Quincy had to be there at 7:30 to meet with the governor. The Governor’s wife entertained Mr Brown and the ladies with drinks in a side parlour. She was ecstatic about the work Claudia had performed at her bequest.

The Governor came down to collect his wife; the six of them made their way to the ballroom. Therese was nervous in the unfamiliar environment. She thought Carol was more at ease than her, but Quincy and Mr Brown stayed at their sides with gentlemanly attentiveness throughout the evening. The band was excellent, and the libations were exotic but delicious. Therese met a lot of people and tried her best to remember all the names and occupations. They danced some but not to excess. The two men were more practised than the two women. Quincy was truly thoughtful of Therese instilling her with confidence. He was a fascinating fellow, conversing about anything with ease, and he never excluded Therese when others were engaged.

Quincy broke free at eleven, and they departed. The driver took them to the bay, and they had a walk on the pier. Quincy had bottles of Jamaican beer iced in the limo. They each had one on the end of the pier. It was a perfectly informal conclusion to a perfectly formal evening.

Home at midnight, Therese could finally do what she had yearned for all night. She embraced Carol and kissed her. It was a slow, soft kiss. Carol took it to the next level with gentle thrusts of her tongue. They floated to Carol’s, their, bedroom and kissed again. Carol moaned with delight.

Therese slipped Carol’s straps off her shoulders and reached around to free her dress. It fell to the floor. Therese kissed her breasts and shoulders then took a slow nibble up Carol’s neck to linger behind her ear.

Carol deftly pulled the shoulders of Therese’s dress to each side and let the dark garment drop. They left their garter belts and hose on and began to pleasure one another on the bed. It was exciting to work through and around their black lace panties.

They enjoyed one another. They took their time feeding slow burns. When the explosions came, they were deep and long. Carol requested Therese’s finishing attentions delivered by hand while Therese asked for Carol to bring her home via her love’s oral gifts.

They slept in on Sunday, bathed and dressed, then enjoyed bacon and eggs at the corner café. Things were coming along nicely, they thought.

*****

The next few weeks were incredibly busy. The volume of government business was surprising and lucrative. Daily, along with tourists and fishermen, they flew teachers, medical professionals, engineers, police officers, and building inspectors back and forth to Grand Cayman, Little Cayman, and Cayman Brac. The women kept close tabs on the construction of their facility. The tradesmen worked at an islander’s pace, but when they finished, it was work well done.

Completed in April, they packed up their things at the apartment and flew to their new home. Carol stayed home the first full day to clean and organize while Therese took the fares. When Therese returned to Cayman Brac at the end of the long day she found the dreamy dream. Carol was on their beach with a meal and wine ready for her Therese. Overcome with emotion; they cried tears of joy sitting across from one another; alas, it was outside, and a stray eye could be passing by their little piece of heaven.

A letter arrived from Abby. It was disturbing. Someone had outed Abby to the airline at which she was working. Her supervisor was a kind soul but had no choice. He let her go but did not make anything of it with the police. She was safe but blackballed.

Carol and Therese thought Abby's dismissal horrifying, but they saw a silver lining. They were so busy flying they struggled with the reservations, correspondences, and bookkeeping. Carol wrote to Abby and urged her to come work with them. Especially fortuitous, was the timing; Abby accompanied Rindy to the Caymans the day her school dismissed in May. Rindy was exuberant in her new island home with her mother and the woman she loved like a second mother, Therese Belivet. They rented a neat little business office on the dock in George Town, and Abby became the face of the business in the capital. She lucked up and nabbed Carol and Therese’s old apartment.

Mr Brown and Quincy fell in love with Abby and found another willing party to accompany them when they needed to project the front, that sweet, sad lie. Of course, this worked both ways; the women had to call on their men friends at times.

On July 1st, Rindy firmly stated her case for not returning to England. Carol and Therese knew it would be her decision before she verbalized it. The school on Grand Cayman was fine, and Carol engaged a couple of elderly teachers to serve as tutors. The educators had come to the islands years ago, lured by the tropical wonders. They were charged to have her ready for higher education, but such was not to be.

Carol and Therese had purchased a military surplus Tiger Moth in 1947. It was perfect for flying lessons, and touristy joy rides with its slow speed and open cockpit. Rindy soloed it at fourteen. She loved flying. It was with a bit of melancholy that Carol packed away her dream of college for her daughter, but she could hardly argue with one’s affinity for aviation.

In 1949, they ordered a brand new de Havilland Beaver from Canada, not the floatplane model, rather the fixed gear iteration. It was expensive, but this superb single-engine aircraft was just the ticket for small party hops to the various island airstrips within her range. They had already hired Limey full time; now, he was swamped.

Anna, Joan, Gloria, and Camden came and spent a few weeks each summer. These were the best of times with family, love, and security. On one of these jaunts, he deeded the Cayman Brac property to Therese and Carol. He still dreamed of building a beach home on his Grand Cayman property.

Grace and Abby were devoted letter writers. Grace arrived from Cleveland, Ohio in 1950 to become Attagirl-Cayman’s third pilot. Carol and Therese got a shock shortly after Grace’s arrival. Grace and Abby had been secret lovers at Hamble. No one in George Town seemed to think anything about two frugal single women sharing the rent.

Rindy was licensed as their fourth pilot in 1952. That same year the inevitable happened; Hurricane Fox tore through with 120 mph winds and did a lot of damage. Carol and Therese were prepared. They had purchased war surplus, steel, blast-resistant hangars. Located to the side of their Cayman Brac airstrip, their aircraft were unscathed. The damage to the office and cottage were considerable, but everyone was uninjured, and the repairs were made quickly.

The governor honoured Attagirl-Cayman for their humanitarian acts in the wake of Fox. The day after the storm cleared, Rindy, flying the Beaver, ferried injured islanders for fourteen hours straight from Cayman Brac and Little Cayman to the hospital at Grand Cayman. Carol and Therese flew some of the worst cases to the States in the Twin Beech. Grace took the Tiger Moth, and with Abby in the back seat, airdropped medical supplies to the most remote spots of the islands. They refused all monetary compensation but proudly displayed the Governor’s plaque in Abby’s office at George Town.

In 1954, Carol, Therese, Mr Brown, and Quincy formed a corporation named Attagirl-Cayman Inn, Limited. They built a hotel on Cayman Brac. Among the first guests were the McElroy families. Phil and Dannie stayed in the Royal Air Force. Both wing commanders, Dannie commanded fighters in Korea, while Phil did the same in West Germany. Now both stationed back in Britain, they committed to a grand holiday in the Caribbean. Danny and Phyllis had two boys, and Phil and Matilda had two girls and a boy. The children cried when it was time to go back to England, so did the adults.

Rindy married Limey’s oldest son, Rupert, in 1955, and in 1956, they named their newborn son, Hargess. In 1958, a little girl was born to Rupert and Rindy. Therese and Carol raced to the hospital in George Town. After checking in on the sleeping Rindy, they went to the maternity ward to view the baby. The nurse let Carol scrub, don a gown and mask, then enter to hold her granddaughter. Therese looked on from behind the glass with Rupert at her side. She put her arm around him and asked, “She’s beautiful, Rupert, and what is our young lady’s name?”

“Carol.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/1JLv0zE)  
> The de Havilland Beaver. Interesting aside: Harrison Ford's character piloted one of these in 1998's _Six Days, Seven Nights_. Co-starring Anne Heche, it's a fun little romp. Anyway, Ford actually collects and flies antique aircraft. He has a de Havilland Beaver and considers it his favourite. 
> 
> Dear Readers,
> 
> Thank you for reading my World War II-era Carol AU. Writing it was quite therapeutic. The story enveloped me each day and made this troubled world go away. 
> 
> You commenters know who you are, and I love you all. 
> 
> Back in the comments on Chapter 7, I penned "Author's Meanderings" 1 and 2. Casper engaged on #2, but no one hazarded an answer to my question in #1:
> 
> "1. I've written _Spitfire Dawn_ unlike any of my other Carol AU works. Dear readers, what is the difference?"
> 
> I opened the third paragraph of my essay _Late to the Dance - Carol_ (my first contribution on AO3) with the following:
> 
> "The novel is written in third-person limited from the point of view of a fledgeling set-designer, Therese Belivet. Omniscient to Therese alone, one can only read Highsmith’s other characters through Therese’s thoughts and reactions."
> 
> I'm proud to say _Spitfire Dawn_ has that same point of view and perspective. I've never written in third person limited. It was challenging, to say the least. The other day it hit me that I had lapsed from this point-of-view at the end of one chapter. It vexed me until I went back and rewrote it. I toiled. Finally, I managed to keep the section's charm yet made it compliant with my goal. I'll not say which chapter. If one of you find it, I'll be dumbstruck. 
> 
> The best of luck to you all in our present World War,
> 
> Danny


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